


Many Flavours of Ice Cream

by SeeThemFlying



Series: The Ice Cream Anthology [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Me being totally self indulgent, Modern AU, Prequels, Spin Offs, one shots, regency au, sequels, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2020-10-06 13:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: A series of one-shots set around the parallel universes set up in my "Ice Cream Anthology". Sequels and spinoffs to "A Big Cop in a Small Town", "Woman Up", and "Run, Fat Knight, Run", and plenty more!Chapter 22: Never Meet Your Idols (Teaser for "A Good Knight Sleep") - Brienne Tarth is a huge fan of the band "Kingslayer" and even more so of their lead singer, Jaime Lannister. But you know what they say: Never Meet Your Idols...





	1. Contents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! Hello! 
> 
> So, this came out of be repeatedly trying (and failing) to get my act together and sort out the sequel to "A Big Cop in a Small Town". Instead, I offer you a series of one shots based on the parallel universes set up in the "Ice Cream Anthology". They will create a sort of coherent series within their own universes and together, so I hope you enjoy!

Hey guys, so here is what I hope is a helpful little index of all the one-shots in this fic and which universe they belong to. I hope this creates easier reading and helps you read things in chronological order if you want!

Happy reading!

* * *

**Big Cop Universe**

[20.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/52933240#workskin) "No One Can Know" - A prequel to _A Big Cop in a Small Hotel._

[18.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/50748544#workskin) "He Moves Through the Fair" - A prequel to _Big Cop II. _Melara goes to the fair.

[13.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/49912613#workskin) "First Kiss" - A prequel to _Big Cop II. _A teenaged Jaime has his first kiss.

[3.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/48707129#workskin) "A Cold Bed" - Jaime's POV of the beginning of Chapter 16 of _A Big Cop in a Small Town._

[2.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/48669881#workskin) "Christmas in Casterly" - Set between the events of _A Big Cop in A Small Town _and _Big Cop II. _

[5.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/48783041#workskin) "Yellow and Blue" - Margaery POV set between the events of _A Big Cop in A Small Town _and _Big Cop II. _

[17.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/50693996#workskin) "Vive La Resistance" - Jaime POV set during the latter half of _Big Cop II._

**Woman Up**

[21.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/58804927) "Waterloo Station, Again Again" - Jaime POV of Chapter 12 of _Woman Up._

**Run, Fat Knight, Run**

[4.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/48768608#workskin) "Stay" - Brienne's POV of the end of Chapter 1 of _Run, Fat Knight, Run._

[7.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/48989468#workskin) "Pennytree" - Prequel to _Run, Fat Knight, Run _about when Jaime found out Brienne was pregnant with Gal.

[9.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/49304651#workskin) "Only Then" - Prequel to _Run, Fat Knight, Run_ about when Jaime meets Gal for the first time.

[6.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/48856010#workskin) "The Jaime Folder" - Brienne's POV, set in the aftermath of Chapter 14 of _Run, Fat Knight, Run._

[10.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/49699376#workskin) "Hyle's Many Poor Attempts at Revenge" - Hyle's POV of events following _Run, Fat Knight, Run._

[16.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/50645039#workskin) "The Snip" - Follow up to _Run, Fat Knight, Run _in which karma is a bitch.

[11.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/49791026#workskin) "The Apple Never Falls Far From The Tree" - Follow up to _Run, Fat Knight, Run _set many years later, the night before Gal's wedding.

[12. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/49888139#workskin)"Naming Conventions" - Follow up to _Run, Fat Knight, Run _set many years later. Jaime and Brienne meet their first grandchild.

**Lannister and Tarth**

[8.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/49105139#workskin) "1817" - Prequel to _Lannister and Tarth _about when a young Brienne moved to Edinburgh.

[14.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/50092901#workskin) "In Another World" - Alternate ending to _Lannister and Tarth._

**Zombie Horror Hordes**

[19.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/51626374#workskin) "Mistletoe and Wine" - Prequel to _Zombie Horror Hordes_ set at Pod's Christmas Party.

**A Good Knight Sleep**

[22.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/61396693) "Never Meet Your Idols" - Prequel to _A Good Knight Sleep._

**Multiverse**

[15.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507945/chapters/50391806#workskin) "The Multi-Dimensional Pink Mini Cooper" - An insight into the life of the dimension travelling Pink Mini Cooper, with snapshots of the _Big Cop _verse, _Woman Up _verse, _Run, Fat Knight, Run _verse, _Lannister and Tarth _verse, and _Zombie Horror Hordes _verse.


	2. Christmas in Casterly ("A Big Cop in a Small Town")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! For this one shot, there are minor spoilers for "A Big Cop in a Small Town", so if you want to read it, you may want to read that first! I know it is only September, but for some reason I was in a Christmassy mood :D

“Why do you look so grumpy, wench?” said Jaime, looking at from the other side of their bedroom through her reflection in the mirror.

Brienne furrowed her brow. “I don’t look grumpy.”

“Yes you do,” Jaime smirked, running his fingers along his jaw, “you’re even folding your arms across your chest in the way you used to do when you hated my guts.”

Brienne did not like him bringing up those times, so she said, “just shut up and do your exercises, Jaime.”

Enjoying her fake disgust, he decided to play the irritant. “But I don’t want to,” he pouted, sticking his bottom lip out. Brienne had to admit it made him look adorable, especially because he was wearing his ironically ugly light up reindeer jumper, but she didn’t want to tell him that. Instead, she just sighed dramatically.

“You took a bullet in the shoulder. The doctor said that you need to do your exercises to keep mobility in your arm.”

“Yeah, I do,” he conceded, crossing the room to sit next to her on the bed, “but we are meant to be leaving for the Constabulary’s Christmas Party in an hour and my wench is sitting on our bed with a face like a slapped arse. It’s making me not care about my shoulder very much.”

She looked at him admonishingly. “Well, you _should _care about your shoulder.”

“I know,” he said gently, before wrapping his arms around her waist, “but I care about you more.”

It was amazing how quickly he could make her feel all warm and fuzzy, but in truth she was quite cross with him, so she attempted to push him away. “Don’t you try and sweet talk me after what you’ve done.”

“What have I done?” he asked innocently, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You _know _what you’ve done. Could you please explain to me your thought process when you bought and then forced me to wear this hideously fugly jumper for the team’s Christmas Party? I’m the Chief Inspector. I look stupid.”

“No you don’t,” he grinned, drawing closer to her again. “You look cute.” She snorted at that statement, so his tone got more serious. “_You look cute. _And it’s good for both of us.”

That statement confused her. “Why?”

He looked at her as if she was an idiot. “Because your jumper has mistletoe on it, so I can come and snog you whenever I want at the party, and our colleagues can’t moan at us because that would be against Christmas spirit.”

Sometimes, Brienne thought Jaime had missed his calling as a criminal mastermind. Other times, she thought he was a total moron. “Well, I can see your logic,” she conceded, “but if you think I’m kissing you after you’ve forced me to wear this jumper you are sorely mistaken.”

Jaime shrugged and fixed her with a cocksure smile. “I don’t know. I think I’m quite persuasive.”

“Do you?” she tutted.

“Yep,” he grinned. His expression was so teasing that she thought he genuinely had an amazing idea with which to cajole her. Perhaps he had bought her a secret holiday to Barbados; that might do the trick. However, Jaime just continued to look at her with a glint in his eye and when he did not elaborate, Brienne found she had to push him.

“So how are you going to persuade me, exactly?”

“Easy,” he replied, his eyes bright. “I’m going to give you an orgasm.”

She rolled his eyes at him. That was so typically Jaime. “We’ve only got an hour before we are leaving! We don’t have time!”

“You underestimate me,” he smiled, getting down on the floor so he could kneel in front of her. “I could give you multiple in that time. You know how talented I am.”

“I know how _arrogant _you are.”

Jaime smiled at her, all teeth, pride, and dimples. “The only question you have to answer, wench, is how you want your orgasm delivered.”

“Amazon,” she replied bluntly, but that just made his smile grow bigger.

Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “fingers, tongue, or cock, your choice.” Jaime always had a way of making her go the most brilliant shade of red; Brienne sometimes thoroughly detested him for that, especially as he took great pleasure in laughing at her when he succeeded in doing so. 

“Stop laughing.”

“No, my little mistletoe,” he smirked. “There’s no greater joy in my life that winding you up. You can’t stop me.” He was grinning at her like he used to do in the old days when he spent his days riling her and, quite annoyingly, she had no quick comeback. Therefore, to counter him, she just folded her arms across her chest and pretended to ignore him. Seeing what she was trying to do, he chirped her name.

“Oh Brienne.”

“What?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?” she said obtusely.

He fixed her with a mocking look. “How do you want your orgasm delivered?”

“Jaime,” she said exasperatedly. “We’ve only got an hour. We can’t be doing this now.”

“Yes we can,” he replied. “Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

“For you or for me?” she snorted.

“Both of us,” he grinned. “You know I _love _getting you off. I think I said _with my body, I thee worship _when we got married, so I intend to do just that.”

Brienne shook her head, trying quite unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “No you didn’t. We did a short version of the vows because your mad sister turned up with a shotgun, remember?”

“Just about,” he smiled, before taking her hand. “I’ll promise it now then. With my body, I thee worship… there, done.” He said it so sincerely that what he said next was the poetic equivalent of a 180 degree turn. “So open your legs, wife, I want to fuck you.”

Brienne sighed; she really couldn’t deny her husband anything when he was in this mood. Jaime had an amazing ability to always get in her pants in the end. Knowing resistance was futile, she acquiesced to his plan. “But I haven’t answered your question yet,” she teased. “You don’t know what your orders are.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re ordering me around now, are you?”

Finally giving in to his prolonged teasing, she joined her hands behind his neck. “Of course I am. It’s how we roll, isn’t it?”

Jaime let out a breath of laughter. “Well, I suppose we both know we enjoy it better when you’re on top and you treat me like your little bitch.”

“We do,” she purred, opening her legs so he could shuffle in the gap. “I’m glad you know you your place.”

“Oh, I do, wench,” he promised, “I do.” Wanting to wipe that victorious grin off his face, she pulled him towards her so they could kiss, her tongue meeting his enthusiastically when he parted her lips. Lifting himself off his heels, Jaime managed to almost reach her height sat down, and it enabled her to grasp at him more effectively. Swiftly agreeing to his mad plan, Brienne found herself pulling at his equally fugly reindeer jumper, quickly throwing it off and over his head so she could run her hands down his chest.

“Grrr…” she growled, admiring the fact that she had managed to nab such a handsome husband while playing with his chest hair.

He smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, you are always so eloquent.”

“Shut up,” she commanded, not wanting to take any more of his mockery. “You can put that tongue of yours to better use elsewhere.”

Jaime bit his lip, “you’ve finally decided then, have you?” His voice was a little husky.

“Yes,” she announced emphatically. “We don’t have time for the full shebang… no pun intended… but it you want to throw a bit of fingering in there along with your tongue I won’t be complaining.” Jaime was looking at with his big green eyes, half in excitement, half in awe, so she chided him flirtatiously. “Are you just going to stare at me? Or are you going to do what you’re told?”

He gulped as he reached for her flies with his good hand. “I’ll do what I’m told.”

“Good,” she beamed, before leaning back on her elbows and shuffling slightly to help him get her jeans and underwear off. “I might forgive you for the fugly jumper then.”

His laughter mixed with his kisses as he traced a lazy path along the top of her right thigh, using his left hand to draw encouraging little circles on the sensitive skin behind her knee. When he sucked at her, she let out an appreciative little sigh, so he upper the ante by biting at the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

“Gentle,” she said, her voice breathy.

Jaime looked up at her. “Talk to me,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

“What you are doing is good,” she reassured him, reaching out to stroke his cheek, “but I would like it if you held my hand.”

He nodded and then wasted no time in getting in position. Taking both of her legs and placing them on his shoulders, it enabled him to scoop his arms underneath her and take her hand in his. Once the fingers of his left and her right were interlocked, she went about removing his prosthetic. In the early days, he had always been a bit hesitant to let her do that, but now he understood that when they were this close, she wanted to touch every bit of him, including the parts he hated.

“Jaime, that’s… _oh._”

“Yes, wench?” he said, drawing back to look at her teasingly.

“Shut up and do as you’ve been told.”

He let out a little laugh before drawing close again, kissing her on the most sensitive parts of her body and not stopping when she started babbling. “Oh… _yes. _Jaime. Yes. That’s so good… just like that… you are so good at this, but maybe a little more tongue?”

She felt the amused burst of his breath on her slick, sensitive centre, and it made her shudder, but then he complied with her orders and the sensation was so instantaneous that she threw her head back onto the bed. When she did that, she felt him pull at her with his left hand and it made her look up at him. Even though the bottom half of his face was buried in her cunt, he was gazing at her with his beautiful green eyes, that were now almost black with desire.

_He wants to see my face, _she thought distantly. _Crazy man._

Brienne could feel Jaime smiling against her as she looked back up at him, and once she did so he continued his work more forcefully, switching it up so his tongue was inside her, then outside, then licking up and down and making her squirm. She could no longer concentrate on anything but the heat pulsing through her body, and the fact she found herself quivering as he came at her again and again with his tongue, sending shocks of electricity through her.

“Yes,” she moaned, losing herself in the sensation. “Just like that. You are so good at this Jaime, so good… fuck… I love you so much…”

With her last statement, he began sucking at her, closing his lips around the point that he knew would drive her wild. At the contact, Brienne shuddered more forcefully, her legs quivering either side of his head. “Ahhhhh… oh fuck… oh… yes… yes… yes…”

The pressure kept building and building as she kept coming closer to the edge. No longer able to bear the way he was teasing her – drawing back to kiss her thighs before pursuing her release with his tongue with increased urgency – she drew her legs up and crossed them behind his head, holding him in place, while tightly gripping his hair so she could direct him where she wanted more powerfully. As she began rubbing herself against his beautiful face, she was no longer quite sure who was fucking who. At her twofold attempt to get greater control over him, he moaned loudly and the sound of how much he enjoyed serving her, coupled with the vibration it sent through her entire body, pushed her right over the edge.

“Jaime… fuck… Jaime… oh… god… _yes…_”

After blinding lights flashed in her eyes and her body surrendered to the pleasure, she was only vaguely conscious of the fact that Jaime was continuing to kiss and lick at her, determined to taste what he had done to her. Releasing the tight grip on his hair, she looked down at him desperately.

“Stop Jaime,” she moaned loudly, “I need you inside me _now_.”

Only when she had unwrapped her legs from around his head did he get up and grin at her. Her heart hammered madly at the sight of him; not only was he is usual, half-god self, but his face was slick with her arousal and she just wanted to taste herself on him, taste his mouth, taste his…

To her surprise, instead of climbing on top of her, he laid down beside her and pulled her towards him, kissing her furiously. Her own musky scent overwhelmed her as he ran his tongue along her teeth, and she parried him all the way. Feeling his hardness pressed against her thigh, she ground herself into him, trying to persuade him to take his clothes off and fuck her. However, he seemed more interested in foreplay, and ran his hand under her jumper. “Take it off,” he murmured, “I want to touch you.”

“I knew you really thought it was fugly,” she joked as she helped him pull it over her head.

“No I don’t,” he purred, “it’s just in an ideal world, I think you should be naked all the time.”

Once he had her jumper off, he pulled at her bra, using the opportunity to kiss her swollen nipples that were aching for his touch. “Jaime,” she murmured as he swirled his tongue around her peak, nipping at her when she said his name. “Jaime… inside… _inside…_”

He pulled away before smiling at her mockingly, “you are so impatient, wench.”

Brienne had had enough. Lifting herself up, she put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back onto the bed before straddling him. “I thought you said you were going to do what I told you.”

She watched his Adam’s Apple bob up and down in his throat as his eyes went wide. “Yes,” he whispered, his whole demeanour changing now she was on top of him. “Oh god, yes, anything.”

Leaning down, she cupped his face in her hands and have him an order he could not refuse. “Didn’t you hear me? I want you inside me… _now._”

She suddenly felt his hand on her wrist, his thumb drawing tender circles just along the blue line of her vein. Even though his touch was gentle, his voice was teasing. “Make me… wench.”

So she did.

* * *

“I’m going to have a shower,” Brienne insisted as she finally disentangled herself from Jaime. Putting her jeans back on, she went to make her way back out of the bedroom.

He grinned at her mischievously, getting off the bed. “Well, I’ll come with you. I could use a shower too.”

“You can wait till after I finish,” she laughed, “because I know if we go in there together you will be talking me into even more sexy times.”

“What’s wrong with even more sexy times?” he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, enabling him to kiss her neck. “I like sexy times with my wench… I _really _like sexy times with my wench.”

“You are an insufferable prat sometimes,” tilting her head so he could kiss her lips.

“Thank you,” he grinned, before pulling her closer and sticking his tongue down her throat. The more logical side of her knew they only had half an hour before the party and that it wasn’t particularly sensible to let Jaime continue to kiss her and turn her brain into mush, but the more dominant voice in her head said she didn’t really give a shit and he could do whatever he wanted to her.

They staggered out of their bedroom, their tongues dancing, pulling each other towards the bathroom. The layout of their cottage was a little inconvenient; to get to the bathroom from the bedroom, one had to cross the living room which sat at the centre of the house. They had just fumbled their way into the room when Brienne let out a shocked little gasp and pushed Jaime away. The reason for her distress was that they weren’t alone. Perched on their sofa was Margaery, grinning at them both like the cat who had got the cream. As she smirked at them both, Jaime locked his arms across his chest; he hadn’t put his reindeer jumper back on.

“Margaery,” he cautioned, “you’ve got to stop climbing in through our window.”

She pouted at them. “Come on, we’re neighbours! And I needed to come and borrow some tinsel to wrap around my scrunchy.” Margaery too had got in the Christmas spirit; like Brienne and Jaime, she was also wearing a Christmas jumper, although hers had a Christmas pudding on it and lit up when she moved.

“How long have you been here?” asked Brienne, horrified.

Margaery thought about it for a moment, before saying, “at least since _Stop Jaime, I need you inside me now, _but then I put my earphones in and listened to some Rihanna while you got it on, so I missed all the juicy bits after that.”

“Margaery!” scolded Brienne.

Her friend smiled. “What? I wanted to give you two some privacy.”

“You could have done that by leaving our house,” said Jaime, his tone sharp.

Margaery shrugged. “I was already here, so Rihanna seemed the better option.” Brienne could see Jaime had gone a spectacular rosy red, and she thought it probably matched the colour on her own face. Margaery just laughed at them.

“What’s so funny?” asked Brienne.

“You two,” Margaery smiled, “and the fact you always think there’s time for banging. We’ve got to be at a party like… very soon.”

“We’ll be there on time,” said Jaime flippantly.

Margaery raised her eyebrows at him. “I hate to point this out, but Brienne has her trousers on back to front and you’ve still got a hard on.” Jaime went even redder as Margaery checked her watch, “and… oooh… you’ve got twenty minutes to rectify that problem.”

Brienne turned to Jaime, sighing, knowing they were not going to be able to finish what they started with Margaery laughing at them. “Do you want to go in the shower first?”

“Okay,” he said resignedly, pecking her on the cheek.

“Shall I turn the hot water on?”

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s probably better if I have it ice cold.”

She laughed. “You are so bad.”

“Sue me,” he smiled.

* * *

In the end, they weren’t _that _late to the Christmas party. Margaery gave Jaime and Brienne a lift to the station in her pink Mini Cooper, so they managed to only be half an hour behind everybody else. Brienne had hoped they would be able to sneak in silently through the back door while everyone was dancing to _Last Christmas, _but to her disappointment the Hound was waiting just inside with a big bottle of champagne and Joff the German Shepherd.

“You’re late,” the Hound said as the three of them came through the doors.

“Sorry,” said Margaery, pointing at Jaime and Brienne. “I know you needed me here for the cake order, but I got held up because they were banging.”

The Hound rolled his eyes at Jaime and Brienne. “Oh for fuck’s sake. You’ve been married for what… six months? Surely you are bored of it by now.”

“Shut up Clegane,” said Jaime jokingly, wrapping his arms around Brienne. “If I want to bang my wife in the relative privacy of our own home I am totally entitled to do so.”

The Hound bent down to give Joff a pat on the head, probably because the psycho German Shepherd looked as equally grumpy as the Hound felt. “If only you _did _keep it to the privacy of your own home.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Jaime.

The Hound looked at him like he was an idiot, so Brienne turned to Jaime and whispered in his ear, “don’t pick a fight. We both know we’ve shagged in the station.”

“Yeah, but that’s your fault,” smirked Jaime. “You are insatiable.”

Jaime continued to tease her as they made their way to the staff room with Margaery, the Hound, and Joff, and found the usually boring office space bedecked in Christmas cheer. “Well done, Margaery,” beamed Brienne, “I knew it was a good idea putting you in charge of the Christmas committee.”

Margaery smiled. “Don’t thank me. Thank Pod. He got a deal with Masha down at _The Inn _to give us free booze and Christmas decorations.”

“Thanks Pod,” grinned Jaime, when the youngest Constable in the Casterly Constabulary made an appearance. “Where can I get a decent drink?”

Margaery led them over to the alcohol table where Brienne got a good view of the whole room. All her colleagues were already here; apart from herself, Jaime, Margaery, the Hound, and Pod, there was also the Robbs playing darts in the corner, and Jon and Ilyn sitting at the table stuffing their faces with mince pies. Somebody had also clearly invited Tyrion, as him and Shae were having a little dance by the Christmas tree, while Sansa and Pia were having a chat in the corner. Pia was here with Pod as a friend, while Sansa was in attendance as she had just started going out with the Hound.

“I still can’t get over that,” said Jaime, following Brienne’s line of sight as he held out his can of beer for her to open.

“What?” she said, popping the ring pull as she tried to work out what he meant.

He pointed at Sansa. “Sansa and the Hound. Weirdest pairing ever. It’s like Beauty and the Beast, but a strange rural version where he isn’t a secret prince, just a grumpy police officer with a dog.”

Brienne shrugged, giving Jaime back his beer before opening one for herself. “It’s no different from us.”

Jaime snorted. “Are you calling me a beast?”

“No,” she said, not quite looking at him as she sipped her beer.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, shush your mush,” he said, nudging her. “You are a goddess and if anyone disputes that they’ll have to fight me.”

“Fancy a wrestle?” she teased.

“Only if we’re naked,” he grinned.

It wasn’t long before Pod turned up the music and _Fairytale of New York _came blaring through the speakers. Jaime pretty much downed his beer and grabbed Brienne by the hand before leading her to the centre of the room. “Dance with me, wench.”

“Oh yes, because this song is _so _romantic,” she laughed.

Pulling her close, he whispered in her ear, “what? Don’t you think calling you an old slut on junk is the height of poetry?”

“Funnily enough, no,” she giggled, “neither is calling you a scumbag, or a maggot.”

In spite of the rude insults and slurring endemic to the song, they danced together until the end, and were soon joined by Tyrion and Shae, then the Hound and Sansa. Pulling Jaime close to her when _All I Want for Christmas Is You _came on, Brienne leant her head on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “what’s the betting that Robb Stark and Margaery are going to dance?” From the angle she was positioned in, she could see them standing over by the vol-au-vents, bickering about something or another.

“Low,” said Jaime, “they enjoy pretending they hate each other too much.”

“But they have such obvious sexual tension,” insisted Brienne, watching as Robb stole some of Margaery’s dip for his carrot, to her pretend fury. “I don’t know why they don’t just do something about it. It’s obvious to everyone they fancy each other.”

Jaime outright laughed at that, “oh, and you are so good at spotting sexual tension, are you?”

“Yeah,” said Brienne indignantly.

“Mmm,” hummed Jaime sarcastically, “and how long exactly did it take you to cotton on to the fact that I wanted to jump your bones? If I recall correctly, I had to point it out pretty explicitly.”

“Ah yes, I remember,” she said in mock wistfulness. “So romantic. I believe your exact words were, _I want you to fuck me, anyway you want me, and I’m tired of waiting.”_

“Who gives a shit if it was romantic or not?” smirked Jaime. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at him, “yes it did, but as neither Robb nor Margaery have such filthy minds as you, I think we need to actually to do something to engineer the situation.”

Jaime looked intrigued by that. “What do you propose?”

Brienne shrugged. “We could lock them in a cupboard until they kiss?”

“Are we in a fucking romcom?” joked Jaime. “We need something much more subtle than that.”

“What do _you _propose then, Mr Romantic?”

He grinned at her. “Well, a fight always gets my juices flowing.”

“I’m not having any of my officers wrestling,” she insisted.

Jaime pulled her close as he said, “what, not even us?”

“Later, you utter sex fiend,” she smiled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Brienne tried to ignore the salacious smirk he was giving her as she continued to try to come up with a plan. “If we can’t get Robb and Margaery to wrestle, why don’t we set up a competition of some sort? They both hate to lose.”

“But won’t it be a bit obvious if we just randomly set those two up to play a game of tiddlywinks for no apparent reason?” asked Jaime.

Then Brienne had a brainwave. “Possibly, so maybe it is time for a bit of team wide bonding.”

* * *

Brienne spent the next few hours making sure the rest of the team were well and truly drunk before she put her plan into action. Once she was sure the mood was right, she went over to the games cupboard. The station had one just in case they had children or families at the station, to give them something to do while they were waiting, and while everyone was distracted singing along to _The Darkness’ _song _Christmas Time, _Brienne went in search of what she needed. Inside the cupboard, she found just what she was looking for; the board games _Twister, Operation, Uno, Kerplunk, _and, of course, _Tiddlywinks._

“Right,” she said, depositing them all on the table at the side of the room. “I’m the Chief, and I declare it’s time for some drinking games.”

Tyrion grinned. “Oh, yes! Can we play _Never Have I Ever?_”

“No,” ordered Brienne, “because last time we played that you accused Pod of being a virgin and made him cry.”

Tyrion was a bit disappointed, but then sat down next to her and saw what she had in front of her. “Drunken _Kerplunk _will be impossible!” he giggled.

“No it won’t, it will be a bit of a laugh. Let’s get some teams together.”

With Jaime’s help, Brienne managed to recruit lots of their colleagues and friends into the game and decided the best thing to do was boys vs girls, with one person being picked from each team to play each round. The boys team consisted of Jaime, Robb, Tyrion, Pod, and (after Sansa talked him into it) the Hound, while the girls were Brienne, Margaery, Shae, Pia, and Sansa.

“Right,” said Brienne, “we’ve voted Margaery as our team captain.”

“Have we?” replied Margaery, a little confused.

“Yep,” grinned Brienne, before turning to Jaime. “Who have you guys picked?”

“Robb Stark,” Jaime replied, point at him. Robb wore a similar expression to Margaery and tried to object, but at that state of affairs, Margaery starting smirking at him.

“We’re going to totally decimate you, Stark!”

Robb shook his head, “oh really? Because I’ll have you know I’m fucking excellent at board games.”

“But you’ve drunk two bottles of tequila,” Margaery shot back.

“Well, so have you,” slurred Robb.

Margaery laughed, “yeah, but I can take my drink.”

Cutting across them, Jaime turned to Brienne. “What game are we playing first?”

Brienne signalled to Jon, who agreed to be the referee. “Erm… we’re going to start with _Uno. _Each side pick which player is best going to represent you in this round.”

“Wait,” interjected the Hound. “If I’m going to waste time playing board games with you lot when I could be drinking and eating chicken nuggets, I want to know what the prize is.”

Brienne gave Jaime a worried look. They hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Err…” said Brienne, her mind whirring, “there’s a bottle of vodka in my office, maybe that.”

The Hound shook his head. “Nah. I think we should play for money.”

Pod piped up, “I’m not gambling. I don’t think police officers should gamble.”

Pod’s endless virtue made Brienne smile, but it just made the Hound roll his eyes. “What are we playing for then?”

It was now Margaery’s turn to speak. “What about the losing team has to do something really embarrassing?”

Robb’s eyes lit up at that. “What are you proposing, Tyrell?”

“They have to do a dance class with Syrio Forel,” she giggled.

“Oh come off it,” said Jaime, “all you girls go to his class every week. That’s piss easy for you.”

“Alright,” conceded Margaery, annoyed he had spotted her trap. “What do you suggest?”

It wasn’t Jaime that answered, however, but Tyrion. “What about the losing team has to run all the way around Casterly in their underwear. Tonight.”

There was an uneasy silence at that, before Pia said, “but couldn’t we be done for indecent exposure or something?”

“No,” laughed Robb Stark. “Casterly’s Police Service are all in this room. Are we going to arrest ourselves?”

“I don’t know,” said Brienne anxiously, unsure of Tyrion’s idea, “isn’t that a bit much?”

Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. “Not at all. I’d greatly enjoy watching you run around town in your underwear, wench. I can see it now.” Brienne knew Jaime had drunk too much, as there was suddenly no filter between his brain and his mouth. “You’d get all nervous and start blushing that lovely pink colour you go, and then you’d get all haughty and superior and look at me like I’m some naughty little boy, and then I’d…”

“Alright, easy cowboy,” said the Hound, patting Jaime on the shoulder. “We haven’t won yet.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” chirped Shae, taking a swig of her vodka and coke. “We’re all total sex bombs. Casterly would be lucky to have us running around it in our pants.”

Despite Brienne’s slightly horrified expression, her objections were shot down in the resultant agreement, and it was decided that whichever team lost would have to strip down to their underwear and run all the way around Casterly at the end of the party. Looking at the other four women beside her, all visions of womanhood in their own right, Brienne suddenly felt a bubble of dread rise in the pit of her stomach. She knew she was the ugliest of the five of them, and it would be nothing but embarrassing to be standing next to them in her underwear, like some great hulking…

Her phone buzzed. Getting it out of her pocket, she saw she had a message from Jaime.

_Jaime:_ If you lose and you do have to run, you will look like some amazing Amazonian warrior woman, all long limbs and strength and pure unadulterated womanliness. I will have a great deal of trouble hiding the massive hard on I will inevitably get, so don’t you sit there for a moment thinking you are less than. You are fucking gorgeous and you will boss it xxx

Looking up from her phone, she gazed into Jaime’s green eyes as he mouthed at her, “I love you.” She blew him a quick kiss in response.

“Right!” shouted Jon, raising his voice over the resultant cacophony. It wasn’t just the people playing anymore, Ilyn and Robb Arryn had also come over to watch, and were betting on which team would win; Robb had gone for the boys, while Ilyn had plumped for the girls. “The first game is _Uno. _Can each side please pick someone to represent them?”

Shooting a confirmatory look at Jaime, Brienne turned to her team. Everyone was in on the scheme to get Margaery and Robb together other than the unsuspecting pair themselves, so they all knew was the plan was to make sure Robb and Margaery were facing each other at _Twister, _while it was a free-for-all with the other games.

“I’m great at _Uno,_” boasted Margaery, “and I’m the team captain, so maybe I should go first.”

Brienne shook her head. “No, I think Shae was an _Uno _champion at school, weren’t you?”

Everyone turned to Shae, who looked at Brienne in surprise, because she knew this to be a complete lie. “Err… yes… I suppose I was.”

“Good,” concluded Brienne. “I think we should chose you, then.”

Luckily, it turned out that Shae wasn’t too bad at _Uno, _and in the first game against the Hound, she had a decisive victory. It had not helped that one of the rules was that the opposing side had to drink every time the opposite player had a special cards, which Shae seemed to have collected by sheer dumb luck.

“Where are the fucking chicken nuggets?” asked the Hound sullenly when he lost, stomping off in the direction of the food.

Next up was Tyrion versus Pia in a game of _Operation. _This time, the opposing team had to drink every time someone made the board buzz and, due to their loss at _Uno, _the boys decided that some cheating was in order. Brienne knew something was up when she saw Robb Stark whisper something in Jaime’s ear and in the next moment, Jaime was over by Pia, standing quite close to her and asking her mundane questions about the weather. It was a bit of an open secret that even though Jaime was with Brienne, Pia thought that Jaime was sex on legs, so the fact he was even in her near vicinity meant she kept dropping the little body parts, making the game buzz and forcing the girls to drink.

“Hey,” spat Brienne, feeling a spike of jealousy, “that’s dirty tactics!”

“What?” asked Robb Stark innocently, as if he had no idea what was going on. “I don’t even know what you are accusing us of.”

“You are using my husband’s natural sexiness to put Pia off. It’s not fair!” Brienne’s statement had the opposite effect to what she intended however, as it only made Pia go bright red and drop the funny bone, meaning the girls had lost the game. As Brienne started complaining to Margaery, her phone buzzed again.

_Jaime: _You want me, wench.

She sent him the little middle finger emoji, while he replied with the crying with laughter face.

“Next,” announced Jon, “is _Twister._”

Brienne was huddled round with her team in a moment. “Margaery, I saw you climb that tree to go and rescue Shadow the Cat. You are a fucking gymnast. You will be perfect for this.”

“You think?” replied Margaery, somewhat nervously.

“Yeah,” beamed Sansa, “of _course._” In truth, Sansa had been gunning for Margaery and Robb to get together for years, so was very happy at this whole arrangement.

Although she had been happy to oblige her team when they asked her, when she saw she was up against Robb Stark, her face fell. “Oh for fuck sake, not you.”

“What’s the matter, Tyrell?” he smirked. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

“You wish.”

Ten minutes later, the room was shrouded in silence, watching Margaery and Robb in a battle that defined the whole evening. Through the random turns of the spinner, Margaery was underneath Robb holding a weird crab-like position, while Robb was holding himself above her in what looked like a spread-eagled plank.

“Robb,” said Jon in a voice that upped the tension after turning the spinner, “right hand, green.”

“Oh fuck,” muttered Margaery, as Robb stretched out, leaning across her a little more so his head hovered just above her shoulder. “Don’t you lean on me!”

Robb shook his head, “I’m not leaning on you, Tyrell, I’m just trying to reach green.”

After a few more moments of tense stretching on Robb’s part, Margaery squawked again. “Are you smelling my hair?”

Robb flushed so violently that it told everyone in the room that he _was _smelling her hair, but luckily (or unluckily) for Margaery, she couldn’t see his face, so when he said, “fuck no”, she assumed he was telling the truth.

The game lasted a few more minutes, but it soon became clear that Margaery’s powers of contortion were much greater than Robb’s, and when Jon demanded he put his left leg almost above his head, Robb shook his head and acknowledged his defeat.

“Ha!” laughed Margaery, getting to her feet. “I knew I’d win!”

Robb smirked at her. “Well, I didn’t know you were so _bendy._”

It was then Margaery’s turn to go red.

After the intensity of Margaery and Robb’s battle for domination at _Twister, _it was almost a relief that it was followed by the world’s most polite game of _Kerplunk _between Pod and Sansa. They both kept apologising every time they made a move that disadvantaged the other, and Sansa even shook Pod’s hand and congratulated him on a good game after his victory.

“So…” said Jon dramatically, looking between the two teams. “It’s a tie. It all comes down to the last game. It’s _Tiddlywinks, _and our combatants are Jaime and Brienne.”

* * *

The preparation for the final battle got a little bit intense.

“You know this man better than anyone,” said Margaery, impassioned. “You can psychologically break him.”

“But I don’t want to psychologically break Jaime,” replied Brienne, a little scared of the look in Margaery’s eyes. “I promised to love and cherish him, not mentally ruin him.”

“Fuck marriage vows!” slurred Margaery. “We are in a fight to the death here! Unless you beat Jaime at Tiddlywinks, you, me, Pia, Shae, and Sansa will have to run around Casterly in our pants and none of us want that.”

“No we don’t,” whispered Sansa, the terror evident in her voice. “Mine don’t match.”

Brienne had to suppress a snort at that; hers didn’t match either, because in spite of Jaime’s begging requests, she had not put on the matching Cracker themed lingerie he had got her as an early present. Instead, she had told him if he was a good boy and kept off the naughty list, she’d wear them for him on Christmas Eve. That had shut him up and turned him into a barely suppressed simmering ball of lust for the best part of the week, his anticipation building.

Sometimes, Brienne immensely enjoyed the power she wielded over him.

“Ok,” she said, looking at her four nervous teammates who were depending on her. “I think I know what to do.”

“That’s my girl,” grinned Margaery, “bring him down!”

Thirty seconds later, Brienne was sitting across the table from Jaime overlooking the _Tiddlywinks _mat. Robb Stark’s hands were on Jaime’s shoulders, and he was giving him an encouraging little massage. “You can do this, mate. We all know you’re a totally besotted fool, but now is the time to crush her!”

“Err… thanks,” replied Jaime, shaking himself in order to get himself prepared.

Releasing him, Robb stepped back, leaving him prepared for the coming battle. Once everyone else had backed off, it gave Jaime and Brienne the opportunity to look into each other’s eyes. “I’m going to totally dominate you, wench,” gloated Jaime, fixing Brienne with one of his incredibly irritating smiles.

She scoffed. “Well that would be a turn up for the books, wouldn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I have _no idea _what you are talking about.”

“Really Jaime?” she grinned, “because I would like to refer you to a conversation that we had less than five hours ago.”

“Which conversation would that be?”

“The one we had in our bedroom,” she said, grinning at him. “I believe your exact words were _we both know we enjoy it better when you’re on top and you treat me like your little bitch.”_

The whole room burst into laughter at that, even as Jaime went a little red. “Oh, you’ll pay for that, wench.”

“Will I?” she teased.

“Oh yes,” he replied, his smile growing. “Because I propose we make this _interesting.”_

“What’s your wager, Lannister?”

He leant back in his chair. “If I win, you have to wear the early Christmas present I got you _tomorrow _and I decide what we do with the hand ties.”

Brienne knew full well he’d tell her to tie him to the bed and do whatever the fuck she wanted to him, but she let him get back some of his street cred with a little smile. “And if I win, you will put up that chest of drawers from _IKEA _that you’ve been promising to do for a month that is still sitting in our hallway. Agreed?”

He held out his hand, which she shook enthusiastically. “Agreed.”

The last time there had been this much tension in a room filled with all her colleagues, Cersei Lannister had been accusing Brienne of trying to get into her twin brother’s pants. This time, it was all caused by a couple of winks and a small cup. After the squidge-off, it was decided that Jaime would go first, and his opening gambit was an ambitious one, but he missed potting his wink. Brienne responded by squopping his free wink, and he tutted at her.

“Oh, wench, I didn’t know you’d play so dirty.”

“Do you even know me at all?”

As neither Jaime nor Brienne was particularly talented at _Tiddlywinks, _and Jaime wouldn’t know a strategy if it hit him in the face, neither of them managed to pot all their winks, and the game ended when the timed twenty five minutes were up. Jon had to get out his phone to tot up the score, and everyone watched him with bated breath.

Jon cleared his throat before speaking. “So, I am pleased to tell you that the winner of the Casterly Constabulary’s Christmas _Tiddlywinks _game is…”

Jaime smiled at her, mouthing, “you’re mine, wench.”

_Yes, I am, _thought Brienne, although she would not give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud.

“Chief Inspector Brienne Lannister-Tarth, which means the girls are the victors of the Christmas Board Game Tournament!”

Margaery was up on her feet screaming her head off in a moment, and Shae, Sansa, and Pia copied her. “IN YOUR FACE, ROBB!” yelled Margaery, before scooping Brienne into a hug.

“We won!” beamed Brienne.

“Yes we did!” chortled Margaery, “and this means the boys have to run around Casterly in their pants AND you get your chest of drawers assembled!” To be honest, Brienne thought that was the biggest relief of all.

“Well done, wench,” said Jaime, coming around the table to sling an arm around her shoulder, “well played.”

“Thank you,” she blushed, before noting his expression, “but I can’t help but think you look a bit disappointed. Are you worried about running around Casterly in your pants?”

“No,” snorted Jaime, “I know I’m fucking hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always so modest.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, but he did not tell her the reason for his disappointment.

“What’s the matter then?”

Jaime gave her a little pouty frown, “I’m going to have to wait until Christmas Eve to see you in your present.”

Pulling him close, she whispered in his ear, “well, after seeing the rather incredible sight of you running around town in your underwear, I might be persuaded to give you a reprieve.”

He looked at her mischievously. “You are so good to me, wench.”

It was then her turn to smile playfully, before giving him a quick kiss.

* * *

Brienne’s teeth were chattering as she stood outside the station holding her arms out to gather up Jaime’s clothes. He had happily taken off his trousers, socks, and shoes, but seemed a little more reticent about removing the reindeer jumper. She knew it was because he didn’t like revealing his prosthetic to anyone other than her, so she gave him a quick squeeze before saying, “don’t worry, my love, no one is looking.”

“Hey, Little Bitch,” called Robb Stark to Jaime, having proudly taken all his clothes off. “My bollocks are going to freeze off if we’re out here for too long, so can you hurry up?”

Brienne fixed Robb with a furious look. “Fuck off, Stark. Only I’m allowed to call him that.”

“Yes Chief,” he nodded mockingly, before turning to Margaery. “Enjoying the view, are you, Tyrell?”

Margaery clearly hadn’t noticed she was staring at Robb as if she wanted to cover him in chocolate and lick it all off, so she went bright red and said, “no, I couldn’t care less.” In contrast, Pia was not denying anything at all, staring at Jaime as if he was some rare work of art. Brienne found herself clinging a little tighter to her husband to compensate.

“Right,” said Tyrion, “I agree with Robb. Let’s get going. I’m really cold.”

Everyone got their phones out as Jaime, Robb, Tyrion, Pod, and the Hound lined up in their underwear, and Margaery made sure her camera was pointing everywhere other than Robb Stark as Jon addressed the small crowd. “Right. In three, two, one, go!”

Brienne found herself laughing along with everyone else as the five men ran off into the night. It had been agreed that they would run to the park and back again, which all in all took five minutes. Once they had all disappeared from sight, Brienne turned to Margaery, who was deep in conversation with Shae.

“I do _not,_” said Margaery ferociously.

Shae laughed. “You so _do._”

“Do what?” asked Brienne.

“Apparently,” huffed Margaery, “I fancy Robb Stark.”

“And he fancies you,” chimed in Sansa.

“Yeah,” agreed Jon. “It’s really obvious.”

“No…” objected Margaery. “I…”

“Super, super obvious,” grinned Brienne. “Remember when you told me congratu-fucking-lations for getting in touch with my feelings for Jaime? I’m telling you the same now. Accept it and do something about it.”

“But what?” moaned Margaery. “He’s such an arrogant prat, he’ll just laugh at me if I tell him how I feel.”

“Well maybe you have to communicate in body language,” suggested Shae.

Margaery snorted. “And how the fuck am I meant to do that?”

At that moment, Jaime appeared further down the road. He had always had the ability to run like a gazelle, so Brienne was not surprised to find he was the first one back. Watching him, his tan skin bathed in moonlight, starlight catching in his eyes, Brienne took some time to admire how very handsome her husband was. Even as she acknowledged it, a plan formed in her head.

“Oh Margaery,” she grinned, turning back to her friend. “It’s easy. Just watch.”

“What?”

As Jaime got closer, Brienne laughed, “Exhibit A.”

“Phew,” said Jaime, drawing up to meet them, “with those new energy efficient streetlights, it’s much darker than…”

Not letting another second pass, she shoved Jaime’s clothes into Sansa’s hands and then wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. Pulling him into a deep kiss, Brienne could taste tequila. He responded instantly, lifting his hand so he could run it through her hair. After a few moments entwined with her, he broke the kiss, fixing her with a dopey grin. “What was that for?”

“Nothing much,” teased Brienne, “just a preview of what you’re going to be getting when we arrive home.”

He bit his lip. “Where are my clothes? I vote we go home _now_.”

Brienne started laughing at Jaime’s wide-eyed expression as Sansa passed him his clothes, and he tried to get them on as quick as possible. Given his prosthetic hand, he had particular problems with his flies and his belt, but Brienne was only too happy to help.

When he was halfway done, Robb Stark appeared, his cheeks flushed with the exertion. “Well that was a… Margaery?”

Obviously deciding the best course of action was to replicate Exhibit A, Margaery took a few steps forward before throwing herself into Robb’s arms, putting both hands on his cheeks before smashing her lips messily against his. Just as Jaime had, Robb responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her and almost lifting her off her feet. Sansa and Shae gave a little cheer.

“Well, I think that was successful,” smirked Jaime over the sound of Robb and Margaery playing tonsil tennis. “Who knew that a game of _Twister _could get the juices flowing so well?”

Brienne put an arm around his waist before whispering in his ear, “maybe we should try it at home.”

“Oh, you’re such a bad girl, wench,” Jaime grinned.

“You push me to it,” she laughed, before pulling him in for yet another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! If you've enjoyed this, please leave a comment or kudos! It makes me younger and my skin clearer!


	3. A Cold Bed ("A Big Cop in a Small Town")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their first night together, Jaime wakes up to find Brienne gone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for coming back!
> 
> Now, this one is a little bit different. I wrote it for "A Big Cop in a Small Town", but I could never get it to fit anywhere, so I just ended up cutting it. I think it makes a nice little one shot, however, so I hope you enjoy. If you are interested, it happens at some point during Chapter 16 of that fic, "The Bang that was Promised".
> 
> Again, spoilers for that fic abound.

Jaime couldn’t believe it; Brienne was here in his arms, she had given herself to him, and he was entirely hers. After so much longing and wanting and waiting, Brienne’s body was pressed against his, their legs entwined, her skin flushed with arousal, desire, and the heat of what they had just done. Coming down from his peak, he had pulled her close, desperately wanting to feel her with him – holding him, loving him – to make sure it all wasn’t just some beautiful dream. Even though he would have given the world to stay softening inside her, her arms keeping him safe and sure as he fell asleep, Jaime was conscious of the fact he didn’t want to make Brienne uncomfortable. So, once they had finished, he had laid down beside her and draped himself around her. It was better sleeping that way.

Moonlight fell across the room, making her blue eyes seem even brighter than usual, as if all the heavens were arranged in them. Jaime did not want to stop looking, even as he felt sleep coming for him. Pressing a gentle, almost reverent, kiss onto her swollen lips, he whispered, “I need to go to sleep now, but I’ll see you soon.” He brushed his thumb across her chin, and it made her bite her lip nervously.

_I’ll see you in the morning, _he thought dreamily, _the first time I’ll wake up in your arms. The beginning of forever._

Aware she was not one for words, he was not surprised when she mumbled, “okay”, so he kissed her once more and nestled in beside her, just where he belonged. Slinging a weary, almost possessive arm across her, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her breathing, as regular and as soothing as waves on a shore.

_You are mine and I am yours, _he thought.

Jaime was not quite sure when he fell asleep, but he woke up to find her smiling at him, sun shining through the window, illuminating her freckled skin. God, he thought he could map constellations on her if she would let him. Her blue eyes betrayed her nervousness, but he soothed her with kisses and sweet words.

_You are so beautiful, wench._

_Am I?_

_You know you are. Other people might not see it, but fuck them, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You are strong and kind and talented and wonderful, you are my everything, you have the bluest eyes I have ever seen and I would happily drown in them if only it meant I could look at you. Fuck Hyle, and Connington, and anyone who has ever hurt you. I won’t hurt you. And if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life loving you. You can take and take and take from me, but I’ll never stop loving you, because every time I look at you, I just love you even more. So please, let me be yours._

_I’ll let you._

He kissed her.

_I’ve missed you._

_Since when?_

_Since we fell asleep. It was too long to be apart._

_You’re still asleep._

The light in the room grew dimmer.

_What?_

_You’re still asleep, Jaime. Asleep and dreaming. Dreaming of me._

When he woke up properly, the room was dark, telling him he had not quite grasped the dawn or the comfort of forever yet. Stretching out, he tried to reach for her, but he just found the soft coldness of duvets, pillows, and a bed sheet. He realised why when he opened his eyes. She wasn’t there.

Sitting up sharply, he squinted as he looked round the room, his eyes slowing adjusting to the early morning light. “Brienne?” he asked the silence tentatively, looking around his room as if he expected to find her hiding in a shadow.

_It would never hide her, _he thought, _because she shines with light._

Blinking, he felt a sense of unease pervade him. “Brienne? Are you there?”

Silence. Silence. And more silence.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Jaime got to his feet, his heart suddenly starting to beat a little quicker, his palms becoming clammy, sweat gathering on his brow.

_She must be in the bathroom, _he assured himself, even as his breath started to get a little short. _She wouldn’t just leave after what happened between us. It was fire. It was heat. It was what we’ve both been waiting for. Brienne wouldn’t leave me in the middle of the night; I know she wouldn’t. She _must _love me, like I love her. There’s no other explanation for what has happened._

Crossing the room, Jaime made his way to the ensuite, pushing the door open slowly. “Brienne, I am sorry for disturbing you. I just wanted to check…” The bathroom was even emptier than his bedroom. Devoid of her. It was as if he had tried to skim a stone across a lake, graceful and beautiful, but had not got the technique right and so it only sunk beneath the waves.

Walking back into his bedroom, he looked at the floor. Last night, in their hurry to touch and kiss and love each other, they had divested themselves of their clothing rather unceremoniously, just throwing it down. As Jaime looked down, he recognised _his _trousers, _his _tuxedo jacket, _his _tie, _his _shirt, _his _shoes, _his _boxers, _his _socks. That beautiful blue dress she had been wearing was absent, as were her shoes and the golden clip he had disentangled from her hair. Also missing were her knickers. By the time he had got his hands on them, they had been soaked with the evidence of her desire for him. It was as if she had stolen away all trace of what had happened between them.

“She’s gone,” he whispered, the thought escaping into sound. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. When he came inside her she had called him Jaime and held him so tightly that he thought he would be forever trapped in her arms, which would have been a pleasure rather than a punishment. Basking in the afterglow, he had wanted to wake up with her and to tell her that they should never be apart again, that he loved her and that was it, that was all that mattered.

_You are mine and I am yours._

Through the blurry vision produced by tears, Jaime noticed the room was no longer bathed in silver moonlight, but it had been joined by an orange tinge. Wiping his eyes, he walked to the window and saw where it was emanating from: Storm’s End was on fire. The new light made him think of one person.

“Brienne.”

If there was a chance someone was in danger, she would be there right away; it was her duty to protect the innocent, and that’s what he loved and respected about her most of all. Brienne would be drawn to the blaze like a moth to a flame, and he would follow her anywhere. Even in spite of what she had done, he knew he had to go to her. There was no other choice. And when he saw her again, her beautiful eyes wide with horror at the tragedy unfolding, he knew he would only love her even more.

She made him a fool like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and kudos - they make me happy!


	4. Stay ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jaime leaves Brienne in the snow, the realisation sinks in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! So this is a little snippet from my current fic "Run, Fat Knight, Run", probably set immediately after Chapter One "Six Years Ago". I thought it went very nicely after Brienne leaving Jaime in "A Cold Bed" last chapter, so here is Jaime leaving Brienne! I hope you enjoy.

All that is left of him are footprints in the snow, and soon they will be gone. Brienne looked at the end of the road, barely daring to breath, her eyes watering the longer she stared at that corner he had just disappeared around.

_Stay with me, please… Stay._

Despite the fact that barely an hour before they had been making love, that they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, that they were getting married in two days’ time, Jaime had run away. The pull of his sister, London, and the man he used to be was too strong, too overwhelming. Even though she had thought her love had been stitching him back together, repairing the cracks in his heart and soul, he clearly felt no qualms in ripping himself apart at the seams and her along with him, leaving her standing in the snow.

_Brienne, _she chided herself. _On what planet were you ever going to be enough?_

Her step-mother Roelle had told her as much every single day through her teenage years.

“You should really lose some weight; no man wants to marry a big girl.”

“Don’t wear heels, they make you look like a giant. Men like to be taller.”

“Brienne, you should really consider putting some make-up on at some point. A man wants you to at least pretend to be pretty.”

With Jaime, it hadn’t mattered at first that she wasn’t beautiful because she had hated his guts. She had thought the rumours were true, that all he cared about was money, his family, and winning. Jaime had only seemed to prove that when he used his position as prosecutor to tear her apart on the stand at Renly’s trial, accusing her of being lovesick and ridiculous.

Of course, she _was _lovesick and ridiculous over Renly, but she had not wanted to give Jaime the satisfaction of telling him it was true.

The last day of the trial, after Renly had been declared innocent, Jaime had come up to her by the water fountain and asked her out on a date, like it was no big deal, even when it was the biggest fucking deal of Brienne’s entire life. Men never looked twice at her, and here he was saying she was _woman enough for him._

Although she had told him he disgusted her, in truth she had not been able to get him out of her head for the next six months; his green eyes, his mocking smile, and the desire she thought he saw in the way he bit his lip. In all that time of thinking and fantasising, she had not seen him at all, until one day he had strolled into her shop and asked to buy some lemon drizzle cake, like that was no big deal either.

Jaime did everything so casually, he never noticed what he broke.

Looking down at the ground, Brienne saw that the falling snow was covering his footprints, making them disappear. They were the only evidence he had ever been here, ever been hers, other than the endless ache in her belly. Resting her hand on her stomach, she tried to hold back the tears.

She had never even found the right moment to tell him they were going to have a baby.

And now she never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please leave comments and kudos!


	5. Yellow and Blue ("A Big Cop in a Small Town")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Brienne wants to paint the staff room yellow, the Casterly Constabulary have to recruit the only person with the power to change her mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, after the angsty angst of the last two chapters, here is another little bit of silliness from the world of "A Big Cop in a Small Town". I hope you enjoy!

“It looks like puke,” moaned the Hound when Margaery pointed out which colour Brienne had picked to paint the staff room on the little _Dulux Paint Tracker._

Margaery sighed. “I know, but she won’t listen to me. She keeps telling me it’s a sunny colour that will bring happiness and positivity to the Casterly Police Service.”

Robb Stark shook his head. “I will be neither happy nor positive if I have to turn up to work every day and see that colour on the wall.”

“Me neither,” agreed Robb Arryn. “So _you’ve _got to do something about it.”

“Me?” hissed Margaery, trying to keep her voice down. “Why me?”

“Because you are her best friend,” interjected the Hound. “She’ll listen to you.”

“I’ve already told you,” Margaery snapped, “she won’t take my advice.”

“And you know if any of us say anything she’ll tell us she’s the Chief and she can do whatever she likes,” said Robb Stark glumly, drawing a circle between himself, Other Robb, and the Hound.

There was a moment’s pause before the Hound said, “I think we’ve only got one hope.”

Margaery, Robb, Robb, and Joff the German Shepherd all leant in closer.

“What's that?” asked Robb Arryn, as if this was some high level secret conspiracy.

The Hound dropped his voice. “We’ve got to recruit Lannister. He’ll be able to make her see sense.”

Robb Stark nodded in agreement. “Yes, of course! We always get extra time off on his birthday or her birthday or Valentine’s day or when they’ve clearly spent all weekend shagging. He can talk her into anything.”

Margaery tried not to roll her eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, _he’s _the adorer.”

The three men looked at her in confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?” asked the Hound.

Margaery really did roll her eyes that time. Men could just be so dense. “Well, in every relationship there is an adorer and an adoree. It’s nothing about how much each half love one another, just that it’s one person’s job to be the giver of affection and one the receiver. And he _worships _her. For that reason I’m not sure he could persuade her in quite the same way she could persuade him; we all remember that utterly torturous month she was pretending she didn’t give a shit about him, and he moped around like someone had just killed his dog.”

The Hound covered Joff’s ears at that statement, while Robb and Robb laughed. “Oh, come on Margaery,” said Robb Stark, “I think you underestimate Jaime’s powers of persuasion.”

“I’m not sure I do,” she replied.

Not agreeing, Robb Stark shrugged. “Yeah, Brienne could probably just offer him a blow job and he’ll do whatever the fuck she wants, but I think Jaime is actually quite subtle.”

“Am I now?” came a voice from the door.

Margaery turned her head to see Jaime walking into the staff room from the kitchen, armed with a sandwich and a cup of tea. He was grinning at Robb Stark, clearly intrigued about whatever conversation he had accidentally intruded on. Wanting to take part, Jaime put his plate down on the table and sat down next to the Hound.

“Can I have one of your _Pringles?_” Jaime asked, turning to Sandor and eyeing up the green tube in his hand.

The Hound snorted. “Fuck no.”

Margaery narrowed her eyes at the Hound. “Can you please just give him a bloody crisp? We need his help after all.”

It was now Jaime’s to look confused. “Why?”

Margaery signed. “Brienne is going to have the staff room painted the most obnoxious yellow colour, and we all hate it and want her to go for something that fits in better with the aesthetic of the station.”

Jaime smirked. “I hope you are not suggesting we get together and kill my wife. This is all sounding a bit like the NWA.”

“Jaime,” said Margaery crossly. “I’m being serious. You need to talk her into picking another colour. She’s not listening to the rest of us.”

“Okay,” replied Jaime smiling, “but what’s in it for me?”

“A _Pringle,_” offered the Hound.

“Deal.”

The five of them spent the next few minutes going through the _Dulux Paint Tracker _trying to find a colour they all agreed on, eventually settling on the Sapphire Blue. Just as they had decided, their little meeting was interrupted by Brienne, who had just come out of her office.

“Chief,” said Robb Arryn, giving a nod of his head.

“Hello everyone,” she smiled warily, her eyes training over all of them. “You all look like you are conspiring.”

“Not conspiring,” Margaery reassured her, even though the opposite was true. “We were just showing Jaime the colour you’ve picked to paint the staff room, weren’t we everyone?”

The group all nodded in agreement.

Brienne still looked a little confused, but then she turned to her husband. “And what do you think?”

At her question, Jaime got to his feet and slung an arm round Brienne’s waist. Margaery had always found it adorable that whenever they were in the same room it was never more than ten seconds before Jaime and Brienne found some way to touch each other. It was clear that it was not just the brush of his hand that Jaime was going to use to persuade his wife, however, as when Brienne gave him a slightly quizzical expression, he leant in and kissed her.

And kissed her.

And kissed her.

Margaery tried to ignore the slightly indecent little moans that both of them were making as Brienne started grasping at Jaime’s shirt, her tongue in her husband’s mouth. Instead, Margaery turned to the Hound, who was shaking his head and muttering, “every fucking day.”

Robb Stark didn’t look too much more impressed, but at least he had the good sense to look at his watch and start timing them. When they eventually stopped, Margaery had to stifle a laugh as Robb mouthed “one minute, forty seven seconds” at her.

“Jaime,” said Brienne, a little breathlessly, “what was that for?”

Margaery could only watch as Jaime smiled at Brienne, before dusting a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I like your choice, but I prefer the Sapphire Blue,” he said simply, as his hand came to rest so his thumb was tracing the line of Brienne’s jaw.

Brienne blushed, “why’s that?”

He leant closer, so they were almost nose to nose. Margaery noticed the entirely calculated way Jaime licked his bottom lip and then bit it, daring his wife to look at his mouth. To Margaery, it seemed a totally obvious move, but Brienne was clearly loving it.

“Because the colour reminds me of your eyes,” he said breathlessly, almost dreamily. “It would really brighten up my day to have it on the wall in the staff room.”

Brienne blushed so furiously that Margaery almost felt she was intruding on something vaguely obscene. “Oh… really?”

“Really,” he said huskily, before leaning forward and whispering something in Brienne’s ear. Whatever it was, clearly this time it _was _something obscene, as Brienne went the colour of a sundried tomato. When he finally moved away, Brienne was smiling a ridiculously dopey grin.

“I’ll go and call the paint suppliers and get them to change our order then,” she said, trying to cover up her blush by returning to her office.

“Great,” smiled Jaime, holding on to her for as long as she was in arms reach.

“Cool.”

Only once she had opened the door to her office did Jaime speak again. “Wench,” he said.

“Yes?” she replied, looking back at him.

“I hope you make me keep my promise.” His smile was nothing less than lascivious.

Brienne returned his expression. “Oh, don’t worry Mr Lannister, I will,” she said, before disappearing behind her door.

Jaime stayed staring at her office door for a couple of seconds, before turning back to his fellow conspirators. “There you go,” he said to the Hound, popping down next to him once more. “Done. Now give me one of your _Pringles.”_

The Hound looked very grumpy as he passed across the tube of Sour Cream and Chive, which was not improved when Jaime gave him a smug little grin. After taking five _Pringles, _Jaime turned to each of his colleagues in turn, a teasing expression on his face.

“Now you know who is really in charge of all your bonuses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I'm currently trying to come up with a "Woman Up" spin-off/sequel/related thing, so was wondering if anyone had any ideas of the sort of thing you want to see from that world. If you do, please leave it in a comment :)


	6. The Jaime Folder ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her birthday party, Brienne has to consider the repercussions of what has just happened...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks for reading. I was hoping to get a "Woman Up" sequel to you, but it is taking a little longer than I intended, so here is a "Run, Fat Knight, Run" spin-off. I wrote it on my morning commute on my phone (based on an idea from TeaandBanjo, so thanks!). Given where I wrote it, I'm sure it is riddled with errors and reads terribly, but I hope you enjoy!

Hyle took Brienne’s hand after he put the ring on her finger, and together they turned to the cheering crowd. She tried to look for a friendly face – for Sansa or Renly or Loras – but there were so many unfamiliar people here that it was difficult for her to find them. And then there was Jaime. She would have thought she would have spotted him in his maroon suit jacket – which tucked in and emphasised his figure in all the right places – but she couldn’t see him anywhere. Perhaps that was a good thing, as his words to her on the balcony had tied her up in knots.

_You are the best person I have ever known, Brienne… You were the light that I followed out of the darkness… You were my world, my everything… I’ve woken up every morning aching for your touch, dreaming of being with you again, of being inside you again, of living with you and having a family with you and growing old and dying with you… I did a stupid thing, a _ _cruel _ _thing, but never for a moment think it was because I didn’t love you…_

Six years ago, she would have given anything in the world to hear that from him, to know he was sorry – even if he didn’t say that word directly – and that she had meant _something _to him. But now? What right did he have to come charging back into her life with his sweet words and apologies, just as she had found Hyle?

Hyle, her fiancé, kept a firm grip on her hand as the toured the room receiving their congratulations from all his friends and work colleagues. They did not bump into any of Brienne’s close friends; not Renly or Sansa, or even Loras or Bronn. Where were they?

And she definitely did not see Jaime.

Brienne wondered where he had gone. After the suddenness of the proposal, she knew that he would be upset, and she felt she needed to talk to him… to explain.

_I didn’t know he was going to propose, _she would say. _It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to you._

But, in truth, she knew that Jaime would label her an utter bullshitter.

_You said yes, wench. What does it matter if you knew in advance?_

As Hyle began a long discussion with one of the trustees of the _Quiet Isle _about the joys of conjugal rights, Brienne zoned out and tried to look round the room to find her abominable ex-fiancé.

_That bastard, _she thought angrily. _I don’t owe him anything. I can marry Hyle if I want. I can try to be happy without him if I want. He’s the one who left… he’s the one who broke my heart. What right does he have to stake his claim now? What right does he have to invade my thoughts when I should be celebrating my engagement?_

She shook her head, trying to bat him away, but he kept returning – accusing, angry, upset – blaming her for this mess.

_It’s not my fault, _she thought. _It’s yours, Jaime. It’s yours. _You _left _me_, so it doesn’t matter at all if you still love me._

_You are the one in the wrong._

Her party did not end until the early hours and so for the remaining time she stayed hanging off Hyle’s arm, listening to his stupid jokes. Brienne didn’t talk much, but instead just kept drinking champagne, just enough so she started to feel vaguely fuzzy and could keep Jaime at bay. When the party finally finished, Hyle arranged with the building manager to have the great pile of birthday gifts transported to Brienne’s house the next day, then loaded her into a black cab and took her home. Although Brienne secretly wanted quiet, she let Hyle talk on and on about wedding plans.

“We should make it big,” he said, “somewhere exotic. Maybe in the Caribbean. Or Bali. I have connections in San Francisco; they could put on quite a show there.”

Even though Brienne was tired she said, “or we could have something quite simple. Lots of people might not be able to afford to come if the wedding is on the other side of the world.”

Hyle let out a short bark of laughter. “It will just weed out the riff-raff on our mutual contacts list.”

Brienne didn’t want to start an argument, so she let him continue to make plans – a beach wedding, or at the Marina Bay Sands in Singapore overlooking the Formula 1, or on top of the Golden Gate Bridge – nodding along in a way that she hoped passed for enthusiasm.

_Am I one of the riff-raff Hyle wants to kick off the invite list? _came Jaime’s voice from far away.

Brienne hoped he was. She hoped he wasn’t.

When they got home, Hyle purred, “come on. It’s about time I got to sleep with my new fiancée in that gorgeous dress of hers.”

Even though she felt a bit too fragile, Brienne let Hyle take her to bed, get on top of her, roll her dress up to her waist, and fuck her a little too hard for her tastes. Grasping his back, trying not to wince, she closed her eyes and thought of other times. When searching for release, her first time with Jaime – which had also been her first time with anyone – had always been one of her favourites. She had been so scared that she would disappoint, that her body was in some way inadequate, that his joy in her body, his tenderness, and gentleness had totally taken her breath away.

“I’ll look after you, Brienne,” Jaime had said, his eyes soft, “let me look after you.”

At her nod of consent he had begun a journey of kisses down her body, starting at her lips, then her neck, before robbing her of her shirt and playing with her breasts until they were pink and tender and demanding more. Removing her jeans, he had knelt down between her thighs and looked up at her, his beautiful eyes shining.

“Are you going to… to…?” she had stammered.

Jaime smiled at her. “Not yet. First, I’m going to make you so wet for me that you’ll be begging for it. You’ll want it so much that you will forget every single one of your fears, my love, I promise… I promise…”

And then he had kept his oath with his fingers and tongue.

Only when Hyle rolled off her did Brienne become aware once more that it was _him _she shared a bed with, leaving her with an unsatisfied ache between her legs. Hyle was always so quiet – communicating entirely in grunts and groans – where in her memories Jaime always composed love sonnets at the heights of his ecstasy.

_You are so stupid, _Brienne told herself. _That wasn’t how it was at all. Jaime was never that poetic._

And yet, he was.

_You were the light that I followed out of the darkness…_

Only when she heard Hyle snoring did she make her move. Leaning across to pick up her phone, Brienne turned the brightness down and plugged her earphones in, not wanting Hyle to wake up. Then, she went into her saved files, plugging in several fiendishly long passwords until she got to the hidden place that only she knew existed.

_The Jaime Folder_

Opening it up, her eyes were greeted by the thousands of photos she had taken of him during their relationship. She very rarely featured, because Brienne always found it spoilt the fantasy of him; his green eyes, his lithe figure, his smile, him at the beach, him at a restaurant, him in her bed, him naked, him begging for it. It only took her a minute to find the video. Brienne knew she was a totally terrible person to still have this on her phone after all this time; she had chastised him for as much after all. Yet, the time Jaime had persuaded her to film them fucking had turned out to be the best and worst thing that had ever happened during the course of their relationship.

Because, six years later, she still loved to torture herself with it.

It wasn’t that she wanted to watch it – although sometimes she did, because seeing his beautiful face possessed by desire for _her _was still the most erotic sight of her life – this time she just wanted to hear his voice as she remembered it; warm, affectionate, aroused, loving. Closing her eyes as she put her earphones in, she put her phone face down on her belly and began to listen.

“Oh wench, you are so tight, so good, so… _urgh… _Brienne… kiss me, mmm, mmm… oh god, yes, just like that… Oh god, you are so good… fuck… fuck… oh yes… my love… my darling… I love you so much… yes, yes, _yes… _just like that. You know me so well… you know what I like, what I… _oh, _you minx… you tease… fuck… I love you… do you love me? Do you love it? Do you love the feel of me inside you? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Brienne whispered in time with herself in the video as she dipped her hand between her thighs.

“Oh, my darling, I love you so much, I want you so much… take me… yes… oh, I’m yours… take me, I’m yours… only ever yours… only yours… fuck, Brienne… fuck… fuck… fuck me… yes… oh god, _yes… _I love you… mmm… mmm… _urgh_…Take me, wench… take me, Brienne,… I’m yours to have… anyway you want… fuck… take me… fuck me… yes… yes… _yes…_”

Even all this time later she knew the sound of his lovemaking, the feel of it as he reached his climax. Her hand moved in between her legs in time with his words, dancing in little circles as he eased the tension at the heart of her body without even being here. “I love you, Brienne,” he said when they reached her favourite part of the video, coming together, “I love you with everything… with all that I am…_urgh… _mmm… _yes_…”

Brienne tried to prevent herself from gasping out loud by clapping her free hand over her mouth when the feeling hit her, stars in front of her eyes. Far away, years ago, Jaime was still speaking. “That was so great, Brienne… how are you so good? How are you so perfect? So _you_? I love you so much.” She remembered that day well; they had forgotten the camera was on and had just descended into comfortable, affectionate post-coital chatter.

“I’m nothing special,” Brienne had said.

“You _are_,” Jaime purred. “You are the light of my life. The best of me…”

_You were the light that I followed out of the darkness…_

“Don’t be silly,” she had chided him, “why are you always so ridiculous?”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” Jaime pouted. “I love you so much. Surely you know that?”

_No, _thought Brienne, _I don’t._

Caught in a rumination on the extent of Jaime’s feelings, Brienne nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt an arm suddenly curl round her waist and pull her tight. It was Hyle, her fiancé, roused either by the fact that he was still half dressed or the buzz of her earphones.

“What are you listening to, jellybean?” he asked.

Brienne was glad it was dark, or he would have seen her brilliant blush as she hurriedly silenced the video. “Oh, nothing interesting,” she replied, as breezily as possible, “it’s a podcast on Ancient Greek marble reliefs. I was struggling to get to sleep.”

“Well, maybe try turning it off and get into your pyjamas?” he suggested.

“Okay,” she said gently, “I will do.”

Hyle got to his feet and went over to the bathroom, taking the opportunity to clean up. Brienne wanted to follow him, wanted to say something, but in truth she was scared that the truth would just come tumbling out.

_I don’t think I’ll ever be able to switch Jaime off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much! As ever, I luuurrvvee comments and kudos!


	7. Pennytree ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spin-off from "Run, Fat Knight, Run".
> 
> Three months after Jaime left Brienne at the Winterfell Hotel, he discovers that she is pregnant with their child...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Woman Up" one is coming, I promise, but inspiration struck and I wrote this in ten minutes.
> 
> It is set three months after the first chapter of "Run, Fat Knight, Run".

Jaime crushed the little piece of paper that Tyrion had given him in the ball of his fist. He didn’t need a written reminder of where Brienne was; once Tyrion had said the name of the boring little coffee shop on the other side of the river, it had been burned into Jaime’s brain.

_The Pennytree, Brienne is at the Pennytree._

It was raining, but not heavily enough that Jaime thought to bring an umbrella. In truth, there was something about being wet and cold in the rain that felt like atonement, and Jaime Lannister needed to atone. On entering the coffee shop, he needed to get on his hands and knees and beg Brienne’s forgiveness, like a flagellant in front of the Madonna. Jaime wanted to tell her he was a fool and an idiot, that he didn’t know what he had been thinking, that he loved her so much and he would do anything, _anything _for her forgiveness.

Of course, he had tried to say it during the three months that had passed since he left her at the Winterfell Hotel, but she had wanted absolutely nothing to do with him since then. He had tried texting; she had ignored him. When he had phoned, she had blocked his number. He had gone and left a huge bunch of flowers with the most effusive card on her front doorstep, only to drive past the next day to find them lying there wilting. Once, in his desperation, he had even turned up at her house, but she refused to come outside and see him. When he had returned the next day, Renly and Sansa were waiting for him and told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off because he had no idea what he had done to her.

“But if I could just see her,” Jaime had begged, “I could explain. I can make it alright again; I _know _I can.”

Renly had shaken his head. “No, you can’t. You’ve broken her. Go away.”

After that first month of ice cold nothingness, he had sent her begging letters in his shaky, awful handwriting, but they had been sent back with the words _Return to Sender _written in her heavy handed scrawl. During the day he had thrown himself into getting his sister Cersei off the charges against her – blackmail and embezzlement – and during the evening he had sat down with a cigarette, beer, a pen, and some paper, writing Brienne reems of letters, most of which he thought looked childish and illiterate, so he never sent them.

_Brienne, please, please, please talk to me. I miss you. I need to know you are alright. I can’t cope with this silence. We used to spend every day together and now there’s nothing. I need to see your face; I need to know you are well. I need you. I love you. Please. Wench, why the fuck are you doing this to me? I know I’ve been stupid, but why are you being this fucking cruel? Let me see you, please. I love you so much and I can’t be away from you for this fucking long. I feel so sick. I’m so tired. Just please talk to me. Shout at me, kiss me, or curse me, but please let me see you. I love you. I need to look into your eyes and explain. Brienne._

That was why he had been so surprised when he had gone around to Tyrion’s one day three months after Winterfell and his brother had just handed him a scrap of paper and said, “Saturday. 2pm. She’ll be there.” Tyrion had not got this information direct from her, of course, so Jaime was a little distrustful. Apparently, Brienne had told Sansa she wanted to see him, who had told Renly, who told Loras, who told Margaery, who told Shae down at _The Twin Swords, _who told Tysha who she did a Zumba class with, who told Tyrion. Nevertheless, it was the best information he had yet, so he followed it without a second thought.

And it was right. 

When Jaime entered _The Pennytree _he spotted her instantly sitting at a table for two by the window with a teapot and two cups. Brienne’s hair was damp, but she had slung her raincoat over the back of her chair, so her clothes were dry. The eternal conundrum of internal versus external was the story of Brienne’s life, and to Jaime the vision was art. At the sight of her, he found himself running across the room and throwing himself into the chair opposite her, heedless of how he looked, grasping her hand in his and hoping his touch could convey his earnestness.

Brienne just looked at him, almost emotionlessly, with those big blue eyes of hers.

“Brienne,” he choked, barely able to get his words out, squeezing her fingers to reassure himself that she was really there. “Thank you so much for seeing me. I know I don’t deserve this opportunity, but I need to tell you how much I love you, how much I’ve missed you, and regret everything. I wish I could go back, I wish…”

“Be quiet, Jaime.” It was barely a whisper, but it felt like she had slapped him. She pulled her hand away from his, looking down at her cup as she did so, and he felt so cold he thought he would get a chill.

“Brienne…”

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” she said, looking back up at him. “I don’t care for apologies, or excuses, or empty flattery, and if you _dare _claim you love me one more time, I swear I will get up out of this chair and march straight out of here and never say one more word to you. Do you understand me?”

The anger and disgust in her eyes silenced him in a moment.

She took a quick breath before continuing. “The _only _reason I am here is because at some point during that period of meaningless fucking which you claimed was our relationship…”

“Brienne,” he moaned, his voice hoarse. How could she be saying this? He had done an immensely stupid thing, but surely she could see how tortured he was by all this? How much he wanted to make it right? How much he wanted to be with her?

Ignoring his attempt at objecting, she just continued, “… you managed to get me pregnant.”

There was a beat in which Jaime felt frozen. “What?”

Her expression was as hard as stone. “I’m pregnant. You are obviously the father.”

The feeling inside him was an instantaneous swooping. Jaime wanted to reach out and hold, grab her and kiss her until she was smiling with the sheer happiness of being pregnant with his child. Yet Jaime knew if he did that, he would lose her forever.

“I’m so happy,” said Jaime, the sheer honest emotion of it making his voice crack.

A cloud hovered over her. “I’m not.”

That hurt him even more than her referring to their time together as meaningless sex. “Why?” he asked softly, testing the waters. “Don’t you want our baby?”

“Of course I do,” she said, resolutely not looking at him. “It’s just in my grand life plan, I never thought I would let a man who did not love me nor respect me get me up the duff. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Jaime knew he had broken her heart, but he did not expect by coming here today she would break his back.

“I _do _love you,” he pleaded instinctually. “I _do_, so much…”

“What did I say about you making claims you have no evidence to support?” Her voice was ice, where once it had been the warm summer sun.

Jaime tried to reach for her, thinking that he could prove what he was saying was true with actions. Grasping at her wrist, he said, “I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll be there to help you at appointments at the hospital, and scans. If you want to do prenatal classes, I can come with you. I want to be there when you give birth, and I promise you can hold my hand and crush my remaining fingers until they are pulpy ruins if it would make you feel better. I’ll be there for anything you need me to be, because I want to make this as easy as possible for you.”

Brienne looked at him as if he had gone mad. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

Maybe it would have hurt less if she had actually punched him. “… What?”

Gone was the warmth in her eyes that he was so familiar with; now there were only storms. “You will stay as far away from me as you possibly can until this baby is in my arms and then, and only then, will I let you be his father.”

Jaime swallowed heavily. “His?”

“His,” she repeated, perhaps softening ever so slightly as their baby became a person.

Jaime tried to control his breathing as made one last push at winning her over. “Please let me be more, Brienne,” he begged. “Although it is the greatest honour of my life to be his father, I don’t know if I can bear being so far away from you.”

For the first time since he had arrived, it looked as if Brienne had tears in her eyes, so she got up and put her coat on to protect herself, like she would a suit of armour. “Jaime, I will not talk about this.”

“Why not?” he cried, copying her so he could stand to face her. “Three months ago we were going to get married!”

“Yes,” she snapped. “And then you broke my heart, and it will take you longer than both our lifetimes to make it up to me.”

With that, Brienne made to sweep away from him, but he caught her forearm, holding tight and refusing to let go. Impassioned, he said, “if that’s how it has to be, then that’s how it has to be. But I tell you now; this _isn’t _over, and one day you _will _forgive me, and it will be long before we are both dead.”

Jaime was not expecting the flicker of fear that crossed her features, but when she realised that he had seen it, Brienne pulled her arm away from him. Drawing up to her full height, she ran away from him like he had from her on a snowy night. Brienne did not look back for a moment.

_You will forgive me, wench, _he thought, _because I love you and you love me, and one day you will believe it again._

_I promise._


	8. 1817 ("Lannister and Tarth")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of her father, Miss Brienne Tarth is forced to leave home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So... I know I'm still finishing "Run, Fat Knight, Run", but I thought I would give you a little taste of what I am planning next. It is yet another Simon Pegg film, but I might leave you to guess which one! I hope you enjoy it.

They left Brienne’s childhood home the day after her father was buried in the family tomb in the local parish church, shrouded in a silk decorated with yellow suns and white crescents. The house was to be sold, after all – her father had left significant gambling debts – and it would not do to have the house kept open just for a nine year old girl and her pet spaniel.

A nine year old girl, a spaniel, and ghosts.

The packing had already been done; her governess Mrs Roelle had seen to it. Everything that had not been sold was to be taken with them to Edinburgh, where Brienne’s new guardian would decide what was to be done with her material possessions. Brienne only had vague memories of Lady Catelyn Stark from a few years ago, when she had stopped off in the Isle of Wight on a journey back from Paris. She remembered her red hair, her blue eyes, and clear skin, but could not remember much about her character. Brienne hoped it was good, as she had secretly suspected her father had fancied trying his luck with the rich widow at one time.

It seemed another time, another life, because then Selwyn Tarth had been alive.

Not wanting to watch as her old life was boxed away as if it never existed, Brienne had gone out into the gardens with her spaniel, Dash, throwing sticks for him to catch. Ever obliging, the little dog barked playfully as he frolicked up and down the lawn, always returning to start the game again. Even though he was the image of unrestrained glee, it did nothing to alleviate Brienne’s immense sadness; her father was dead, and now she was to be expelled from her home, even though she was his only heir.

Just then, she heard the gardener singing as he clipped the rose bushes. His voice was pure and sweet, musical in an untrained way, and Brienne stopped playing with Dash in order to listen.

“_High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most._

_The ones who’d been gone for so very long_

_She couldn’t remember their names_

_They spun her around on the damp old stones_

_Spun away all her sorrow and pain._

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave.”_

The gardener’s song was still in her head the next day when Mrs Roelle bundled Brienne into a carriage the next morning, only giving her a scant few minutes to drink in the sight of the house that had been her home for all nine years of her young life. Yet it was not just the bricks and mortar she was leaving; it was her father too. Brienne cuddled Dash close to her chest as the carriage pulled away, trying to stop the silent tears from falling.

“Miss Tarth, please stopped snivelling,” admonished her governess. “The Starks are one of the most powerful families in the North. They will not want a weepy-eyed child as ward in the place of the distinguished young lady your father led them to expect.”

Brienne had not known the contents of the reams of letters her father had sent to Lady Stark in the last months of his life, when consumption had slowly been sapping his energy and his ability to think clearly. She hoped he would have had enough sense to explain the truth of the situation to her new guardian: Miss Brienne Tarth was not, and never would be, a lady, at least according to Mrs Roelle’s definition.

They were delayed for some time waiting for a ship to take them across the Solent, but once they were across they picked up a Stagecoach, and it only took seven hours to get from Southampton to London, where they stopped overnight at a respectable little inn in Southwark. From there, it was several days of riding; from London to Cambridge, Cambridge to Peterborough, Peterborough to Grantham, Grantham to Doncaster, Doncaster to York, and then York to Newcastle. The last two days journey were an eye-watering push from Newcastle to Berwick, and then Berwick to Edinburgh, so much so that by the time carriage arrived in the Scottish capital, it was dark, and both Brienne and Dash had fallen asleep.

The city of Edinburgh was dominated by a huge medieval fortress that stood atop Castle Rock, casting a shadow across the whole city. Brienne had heard the story of the Black Dinner that had taken place within its walls during the fifteenth century; the sixteen-year-old Earl of Douglas and his ten-year-old brother had been invited to dine with the Scottish king, only to have had both their heads on spikes by the end of the evening. Brienne wondered what horrors awaited her in the city; it seemed so dark and gloomy in comparison to home.

“Miss Tarth,” Mrs Roelle said as the carriage ground to a halt, shaking her awake. “We are here.”

Opening her eyes, for the first time in her life Brienne saw the grey-walled mansion that was to be her new home; Winterfell House, the home of the Stark Family. Mrs Roelle clicked her fingers for the coachman to unload the bags from the carriage, before taking Brienne’s hand and marching her around to the side entrance.

“I believe the Starks are entertaining tonight,” she said imperiously. “It has been decided it is better if we go in this way.”

The depth of the planning was revealed in an instant, as in the moonlight Brienne saw a craggy faced servant woman at the door. Brienne was very relieved to see her eyes were kind. “Ah, Miss Tarth, Mrs Roelle. What a pleasure to welcome you both to Winterfell House. I am afraid it is already past dinner time, but I assure you the fires are stoked in both your rooms, so you will be able to rest comfortably after your long journey.”

“Unfortunate,” said Mrs Roelle sourly, pushing past the servant woman to get inside. “I wish to speak to the butler, Mr Cassel, right this moment.”

“Of course,” said the servant woman, nodding her head. “Beth? Why don’t you take Mrs Roelle up to see Mr Cassel?”

The terrified looking scullery maid gave a dutiful little curtsey before saying, “right this way, Ma’am,” shrinking every time she fell under Mrs Roelle’s gaze.

Although her governess was one of the few things left from home, Brienne was immensely glad to be rid of her, and took her moment of freedom to nuzzle her nose into Dash’s fur.

“He is very pretty,” said the servant woman, “what’s his name?”

“Dash,” said Brienne blushing. “Papa bought him for me at Christmas…”

“That’s wonderful,” smiled the woman. “We will have to find him a basket so he can sleep in your room.”

“That would be very kind,” replied Brienne.

At that moment, she let out a yawn. The serving woman smiled. “Come Miss Tarth, maybe we should get you a nice cup of hot cocoa, and then get you to bed.”

Brienne let the servant woman – who cheerily introduced herself as Old Nan – up to her new bedroom. It was much smaller than her one back at Evenfall Hall, but the fire was warm, and the hangings were pleasant, so Brienne did not mind too much. Beth even found a basket for Dash to sleep in. Soon, the coachman brought her bags up to the room, and Old Nan helped her find her nightgown and get changed, while Beth delivered her a cup of cocoa.

Once she was in her nightgown and tucked into her bed with her warm drink, Old Nan told her a bedtime story about Symeon Star-Eyes, a knight who lost both of his eyes and replaced them with sapphires. “They were probably as blue as yours,” smiled the serving woman.

For the first time since her father’s death, Brienne found herself free of his ghost as she listened to Old Nan’s tale; Symeon fought with a long staff with a blade at both ends so he could chop down two men at once. He ventured into the far north and saw the Others and wights, and even witnessed a battle between hellhounds. Although the story was exciting and adventurous, it lulled Brienne to sleep just as well as the comforting sway of the carriage had, and soon she was laid back on her pillow, her eyes falling closed, with Dash curled up beside her.

The story was so good that, once Old Nan had retreated from the room, Brienne could only remember two lines of the gardener’s song.

_“And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving a comment or kudos - they make me a better writer.
> 
> PS. The Black Dinner of 1440 at Edinburgh Castle was the real life inspiration for the Red Wedding, so I feel I had to give it a mention!


	9. Only Then ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime meets Gal for the first time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I should be finishing the last chapter of "Run, Fat Knight, Run", or the "Woman Up" spin off, but I love an angst fest too much so I wrote this on my way home on the train... Again, it's in RFKR universe and set a couple of months after "Pennytree".

_You will stay as far away from me as you possibly can until this baby is in my arms and then, and only then, will I let you be his father._

Brienne hadn't phoned Jaime, but Tyrion, when their son was born. It broke his heart even more than it already was. Jaime had been waiting for her to ring; he would have used the minute she gave him to tell her how brave he thought she was, how strong and resilient, but how she didn't have to do it all alone if she just let him help her.

_I love you, Brienne, _he would have said. _I know you don't love me anymore but let me help you. Let me show you how much I love you in looking after you, in taking care of our son, in being there for our little family. Please._

She hadn't given him that opportunity. Instead, when he had gone round to Tyrion's to tell him that he had been debarred and had a massive fine to pay, Tyrion had just looked at him with sad eyes before saying, "Brienne gave birth three days ago."

A lump had caught in Jaime's throat. "Three days? Is she alright? Is the baby alright?"

Tyrion had shrugged. "I don't know. She wasn't particularly talkative. She just told me to tell you that if you want to see him, to go to Sansa's on Saturday at three o'clock. She'll be there with your son."

"Our son," Jaime had corrected almost as a reflex. "He is our son."

_Mine and Brienne's._

When he arrived at Sansa's house on Saturday, Jaime had felt sick to his stomach; in excitement, in terror, in sadness. His left hand had been shaking as he pressed the doorbell, and in the end, he had placed his prosthetic on top of it to hide how nervous he felt. To his disappointment, it was Sansa who answered the door, not Brienne, but even so he found no more warmth from her either.

"Jaime," she said, impossibly chilly. "Brienne's inside."

"Is she alright?" he asked desperately. He knew Brienne would be far too proud to give him a straight answer, so all his hope lay in Sansa's hands. "How was the birth? Was it difficult? How long did it last? How much did he weigh? How is she feeling?"

Sansa would not answer him - his hope was misspent - but he wondered if there was a flash of sympathy in her eyes before she said, "come through. You can talk to her properly." Knowing he was going to get no more out of her, he bowed his head as he let Sansa lead him down the hallway and into the living room. As promised, Brienne was inside, and his heart started beating faster when he saw her. Although she looked tired, to Jaime she was a miracle, because she was _Brienne _and she was holding their son in her arms. The sight nearly made him cry as he stepped into the room and she looked up at him for the first time.

There was anger. There was resentment. There was pain.

"I'll leave you two alone," said Sansa levelly. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Shutting the door behind her, Sansa abandoned Jaime and Brienne to be trapped together in a physical and emotional prison. Jaime didn't know what to say. "Brienne," he rasped, his words struggling to get out. "How are you?"

She looked at him coldly. "Fine."

"How was the birth?"

"As you would expect," she said curtly. "It hurt."

The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile which she didn't share as he stepped forward. She flinched; Jaime's heart fell.

"How is _he?_"

Brienne's eyes dropped from Jaime's face as she looked down at their son. Jaime was relieved to see a love and warmth in her eyes for their baby boy that she couldn't summon for him. It was such a beautiful sight that Jaime just wanted to draw both of them close and wrap them in his arms, to shelter them from the rain. He knew she wouldn't let him.

"He's wonderful," she said gently, "bright as a button. Cute as anything. I think he has your nose."

Jaime stepped forward again - this time she didn't flinch because she was prepared for it - and he looked down at his son. His heart swelled with an instant affection at the little life he and Brienne had created. Crouching down beside her, Jaime extended his finger and their son wrapped his little hand around it. For the first time since he entered the room, Brienne smiled.

"Oh, Brienne," breathed Jaime. "He's perfect. Do you have any ideas for names?"

Jaime had some on a little scrap of paper that he had brought with him. It was hidden in his jacket pocket and he was prepared to bring it out in case Brienne was interested in what he thought, interested in his opinion on what his own son should be called.

"He's already got a name," she said brusquely, her expression suddenly stony again. "It's Galladon Selwyn Tarth."

_Galladon Selwyn Tarth._

Jaime knew Galladon was an old Tarth family name and had been the name of Brienne's beloved brother who had died young. Selwyn was for her father, of course. And Tarth was her name. There was no hint of Jaime Lannister in there at all. It hurt that she didn't want Galladon to have any tiny piece of his father embedded in his name, but perhaps that was the plan. Perhaps she thought that Jaime would leave their son, just like he had left her, and she didn't want Galladon burdened with the truth. It hurt Jaime all the same.

When in pain, Jaime's first instinct had always been to lash out. "That's a mouthful," he said, "he'll get bullied at school."

At his cutting statement, anger bubbled beneath the surface of Brienne's cool expression. "No he won't. It's a _distinguished _name."

"You've at least got to shorten it. What about Gal as a nickname? That's got a nice ring to it."

Brienne composed her features to appear fierce. "His name is Galladon, so we will call him _Galladon."_

Suitably cowed, Jaime said, "okay, wench."

The familiar tone was too much. She froze. He looked away.

After a few moments of not knowing what to do, Jaime asked, "can I hold him?"

Seemingly thankful for the interruption to their mutual awkwardness, Brienne gave him a little nod and tried to arrange her body to allow him to take Galladon from her easily. As the exchange took place, they brushed against each other for a brief moment, and Jaime could not help but conclude how much better this would all be if as he held their son, Brienne put her arms around him.

"Support his head," Brienne instructed gently. "He's only little."

Yet Jaime barely heard her. He had known love before. He had loved his long dead mother, remembering childhood stories, songs, and her consoling words, yet could not picture her face. He loved his cold austere father, constantly searching for an affection which never came. He loved his brother Tyrion, the first friend he had ever had. He loved his twin, he loved Cersei, even after the lies and deceit and her twisting things until they were rotten and broken. And he loved Brienne, in a way he could not describe in mere words.

Jaime loved none of them in the way he loved Galladon Selwyn Tarth.

"Please," he said to Brienne, to Gal, to the world. "Let me be his father."

"Do you really want to be?" she said quietly, "even though you don't want me?"

_I do want you, Brienne, _he thought sadly. _I want you more than anything._

Yet Jaime did not say it, because he knew she would not believe him.

"Yes, I want to be."

She looked at the floor, obscuring her blue eyes from him just as Gal revealed his matching ones. "Then of course you can be." Brienne had always been too good for him.

"Thank you," he said. It was the only adequate response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! If you liked it, please leave a comment or kudos. I love to know what my readers think :)


	10. Hyle's Many Poor Attempts at Revenge ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyle tries to get revenge on Jaime and Brienne...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Hyle stewing in his misery! I hope you enjoy! If you did, please leave comments and kudos!

It wasn't that Brienne had dumped Hyle that pissed him off, it was that someone, _anyone _had dared to dump him. For as long as he had been alive, Hyle had been the dumper not the dumpee, and he did not like it that _Brienne Tarth _of all people had changed that. She wasn't hot enough for that honour.

And not for the sake of a smug, arrogant, useless bastard like Jaime Lannister.

That's why Hyle had decided that he was going to get his revenge, but not in the way she expected. He did not want Brienne back - she had always been a terrible shag anyway - but Hyle did want her to feel what it was like to lose.

Because feeling like a loser was the worst thing in the world.

Thinking about it, he supposed the best way to get back at her was through her business, _Sweet Tooth. _That was how they had first met after all; _The Quiet Isle _had been looking for a supplier of quality cupcakes, and he had come to visit her store. Hyle had been very impressed with her business acumen and her cakes, and had made the arrangement between _Sweet Tooth _and _The Quiet Isle _almost instantly. However, during their first meetings he realised that behind that tough exterior, there was a whiff of desperation about Brienne Tarth. Hyle had always liked women who were eager to please - it made getting a blow job on the first date easier - so had chased her for a bit before she inevitably gave in.

Consequently, the first thing he did after she dumped him was end the cupcake agreement between _The Quiet Isle _and _Sweet Tooth. _He had hoped it might make her little business crash and burn, but unfortunately it did not; every time he drove past the shop, it seemed to be bustling with life.

_Fuck her, _he thought, when he heard a radio announcement for her shop sliced into the middle of his favourite podcast on Taekwondo. _I'll see her crash and burn._

One evening several months after they broke up, Hyle stalked past _Sweet Tooth _in his expensive car, vainly hoping to notice a _For Sale _sign planted in the ground. Instead, he saw Brienne. She was exiting the shop, her pale blonde hair messy and wearing no make-up. Hyle thought she looked a total mess.

_Most women would be embarrassed to be seen like that, _thought Hyle nastily, _especially when she looks so much like a man most of the time._

He was about to drive away, content with how ugly his ex-fiancée looked, but then the door opened behind her and out came Jaime Lannister, that bastard cheat who had prevented him from finishing the Riverrun River Run. Hyle's heart was in his throat as Jaime came up behind Brienne, slung his arm round her shoulder, and then pecked her on the cheek. That bitch then had the temerity to blush.

_I bet it was going on the whole time we were together, _thought Hyle furiously, _she was probably fucking him the entire time because she's an ugly whore and he's a pretty boy bastard who has always wanted to use her._

Seeing them together like that, Hyle knew in that instant what he had to do. He was going to destroy them both by bringing down _Sweet Tooth. _Jaime was such a penniless layabout that he only used his good looks and charm to latch on to Brienne because she had hard cash, not because he actually felt for her. Because who could _actually _feel for Brienne Tarth? Not Jaime, that was for sure. When Hyle and Brienne had been together, Hyle had used his significant resources to research into Jaime and discovered he was the heir to the terrifying Tywin Lannister. Where the latter was a roaring lion, Jaime was a disappointing waste of space. Such failures only ever wanted one thing - money - which Brienne had an abundance of.

_I can take him on easily, _Hyle thought. _Because I am a winner and he is a loser._

* * *

By asking pertinent questions to the right people in the business community, Hyle discovered that Brienne was trying to expand _Sweet Tooth, _so he decided to make it as difficult for her as possible. He paid neighbours to put in complaints with the Council so her planning permission was stalled. Whenever she tried to hire a particular building company, he would employ them to fix something at _The Quiet Isle. _He wrote terrible reviews of her shop on the internet.

_I found a blonde hair in the chocolate chip cookie. It was gross. 1 star._

_The cakes taste like puke. 1 star._

_I saw the owner shagging a homeless looking blond man in the back alley. Made me sick. Minus 1 star._

Sometimes, Hyle still found himself parked outside _Sweet Tooth _just watching for any signs of failure. Most weekends, she often be in there with Jaime and her brat of her son, laughing and smiling in a way she never had when she was with him. It made Hyle see red - why should she be so happy when he was so furious? - so, using his connections, he rang up his friend who worked in Health and Safety and informed him he had just seen a huge rat coming out _Sweet Tooth._

* * *

A month later the builders came into _Sweet Tooth, _and Brienne was always there overseeing. Jaime and the brat sometimes visited as well, but not as much as Hyle, who would park up and just try to spot some sign of his sabotage working.

_What can I do to make her truly lose? _he thought. _So she knows how it feels._

He was pondering this one day, parked up in his car, when there was an almighty smash and his entire car jolted. Snapping his head round as he came out of his daydream, Hyle saw that a monstrously pink Mini Cooper had just reversed quite violently into his car. Lowering his window down, Hyle stuck his head out of the car and shouted, "what do you think you are doing, you bastard?"

His cheeks went a little red when he saw that the driver was none other than Bronn Blackwater, Jaime's best friend who he had once paid off to make Jaime look like an idiot. The sneaky bastard's eyebrows almost disappear into Bronn's hairline when he recognises Hyle.

"What are you doing here?" asked Bronn, smirking. "Stalking your lady love? Because I can promise you, she's getting it elsewhere now."

Hyle huffed. "Like I want that ugly bitch back. I care about my car, and the fact you've just fucked it up."

Bronn laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you. This was just an accident. But if you call Brienne an _ugly bitch _one more time, I'll run you over, with my Mini Cooper and then I'll tell Jaime, and he'll probably hire a steamroller."

There was something in Bronn's eyes that told Hyle that it really was not a good idea to mess with him right about now so, putting his car into reverse, he fled from the scene.

"See you later, Hyle!" Bronn called down the road, laughing.

* * *

As annoying as it was, _Sweet Tooth _did not fail, but succeed and even prepared a grand re-opening to celebrate the completion of the building work. That night, Hyle found himself sitting outside the shop in his car, trying to work out how to ruin her night without actually going in there. Everything he had tried had failed; _Sweet Tooth _had been meticulously clean and passed its Health and Safety inspection, he had printed fake leaflets advertising the event giving the wrong date but customers still turned up in droves, and had even tried to cause a pile up on the main road on the way here, but nothing had worked.

_Sweet Tooth _was still annoyingly, irritatingly successful.

That evening, everyone was in attendance. Apart from Brienne, Jaime, and Gal, there were all her friends who had hated him while he and Brienne were together - Sansa, Renly, and Loras - but now seemed to be actively supporting Jaime. It made Hyle sick to his stomach.

It only got worse when about an hour into the party, Brienne and Jaime left the shop in order to huddle together in an alleyway, kissing. Whenever Hyle had suggested something like that to Brienne, she had pushed him away nervously and told him it wasn't appropriate. And here Jaime was pushing her up against a wall, with one hand up her shirt, moments away from fucking her. The injustice of it was too much. She had never let Hyle do that, so why would she let Jaime? It was one step too far.

"Was this going on the whole time?" Hyle said cruelly when he reached them. "The whore and the cripple fucking up against walls while I was trying to be a good fiancé?"

Jaime stopped kissing Brienne and turned around to face him. Brienne was blushing a furious red with embarrassment, but Jaime did not seem to care. He looked positively gleeful. "Hello, Hyle, long time no see... at least not since you tripped me during the marathon."

It was the smug expression that was too much. "You tripped _me._"

"We both know that isn't true."

Hyle drew himself up to his full height; he wouldn't be condescended to by someone like Jaime. "Back together then, are you? Brienne, surely you know this lowlife is only after your money. A man who looks like him can't want to be with a silly bitch like you unless you are paying him..."

Hyle had been looking forward to Brienne's reaction to that; insulting her looks was always an easy way to get her to start stammering and blushing. However, it was not Brienne that answered, but Jaime, and his answer in the form of an artificial fist to the face. Hyle heard (and felt) his nose break at the moment of impact and, in his surprise, he fell to the ground, straight on his arse.

"Don't you _dare _speak to her like that, you piece of shit," spat Jaime. "You're not good enough to lick her boots."

"And you are?" snorted Hyle through the blood that was now pouring from his nose as he got to his feet.

Jaime went to answer, but his eyes were wide, as if he was actually considering the prospect that he was not good enough for her. However, before he could say anything, Brienne repaid the favour and answered for him. "Of course he's good enough for me, because I chose him. Now, if you don't mind Hyle, we are going to go back to the party."

Hyle began to laugh nastily. "If you think he is better than me you are one stupid bitch..."

This time, the punch came from Brienne herself, and Hyle had to admit there was a lot more force and weight behind it than the one Jaime gave him. Once again, he tumbled to the ground. "Call me by my name," she demanded, "call me Brienne."

From his position on the floor, Hyle looked up at them both. They were both the worst sort of people in his opinion. "You deserve him, _Brienne_," he spat.

To Hyle's surprise, Brienne smiled at that, and turned to the golden haired bastard. "Yes, Hyle, you are right. I do deserve him. Now, come on Jaime, let's go have some cake."

Neither of them gave Hyle one more glance as they went back into _Sweet Tooth, _smiling at each other like they had just been on a jolly nice holiday. Once they had gone inside, Hyle got to his feet and put his hand on his broken nose, trying to stem the blood.

_This isn't over, _Hyle thought. _One day, they'll pay._

_And they'll feel like losers._

_A bit like I feel right now._


	11. The Apple Never Falls Far From The Tree ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the night before his son's wedding, for Jaime, history repeats itself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah... I'm meant to be writing more Hyle hating... and that Woman Up sequel... and other things... but on the train back from work this plot bunny jumped me and demanded I write it. I promise I will write something other than Run, Fat Knight, Run at some point, but I'm just enjoying this too much!

"Why don't you put your cardigan into the pot, wench?" Jaime smirked.

Brienne rolled her eyes. "We are not playing strip poker. This is normal poker."

"It _could _be strip poker," he smiled, shuffling a bit closer. "I'll bet my shirt if you want?"

She blushed. "I don't want you to bet your shirt."

"Why not?" he purred.

"Because we're in a public bar."

"_And_," interjected Tyrion, "you are also playing poker with your brother and your wife's two best friends. None of us want to see that."

Renly and Sansa both nodded in agreement. At their total rejection of the prospect, Jaime just pouted. "Hey... I'm still sexy."

Tyrion sighed. "You are going to be fifty-six in two weeks’ time. You are rapidly approaching the point in life where you are really not sexy anymore."

Jaime frowned. 

_I'm motherfucking gorgeous, _he thought.

He turned to his wife for a bit of support. "I'm a silver fox, aren't I, wench?"

Brienne went an even deeper red than she already was. "No. You're just arrogant."

Even though her words were saying one thing, her expression was saying another. "Are you _suuuurrreee _you don't find me a _little _bit sexy?"

"No," she said again, gazing intently down at her cards so she did not have to look at him.

"No?"

"Nope."

At her persistent rejection, Jaime shuffled even closer to her, so they were touching, knowing that she could never resist him when he was this near. "I still find _you _sexy."

Brienne looked up at him suddenly, her eyes wide in surprise. "Do you?"

He leant in close in order to whisper, "fuck yes," into her ear.

By the time he drew away, Brienne was smiling. "Okay, you are not so bad."

"Not so bad?" he pouted, a little disappointed.

"That's all you are getting," she laughed, ruffling his hair. "I don't want to polish your ego."

"Okay, you don't want to polish my ego," conceded Jaime, as an idea bloomed in his mind, "but why don't you polish my...?"

"Right that's enough," snapped Sansa. "It is the night before Gal's wedding. This is really not the time for you two to be reliving your youth."

Jaime scoffed. "We don't need to be young for Brienne to want to rub my..."

"Shut up, Jaime," Brienne said, slapping her hand across his mouth, "or I promise you I will never rub _it _again."

Jaime was laughing against Brienne's hand when he noticed Gal enter the bar. As Gal and his fiancée, Bethany, had basically been together forever, no one was surprised when they announced they wanted to get married at the tender age of eighteen, nor when Bethany turned up to the engagement party obviously pregnant. As Gal and Bethany were both vegan-veggie-weirdos (as Jaime liked to call them) they had decided to get married at a sustainable eco-resort in the wilds of Somerset, meaning all the guests had been sleeping in yurts for the last two days and the wedding itself was to be held in a treehouse by a pagan priest. The only part of the resort that was even slightly warm was the bar, hence why it was here that Jaime and the others were congregated playing poker at one in the morning. The alternative was freezing their arses off in the yurts.

Brienne went to wave to Gal, but he did not notice. Instead, he was focussed on wearing a face like thunder and marching straight through the bar undetected. In a second, he had disappeared through the other door.

"I wonder where he's going," Brienne mused, turning back to her cards.

"Probably checking out the freezing cold eco-friendly bar," smirked Tyrion.

Everyone let out a little laugh at Tyrion's poor joke before going back to the game of poker. Jaime, however, did not. His blood had gone icy and he could not understand why the others were sitting around so casually when his own heart had just fallen through the floor.

"Fuck," he said, the word dropping out of his mouth and into Brienne's hand.

"What?" asked Renly, looking at him quizzically.

Pulling her off him, Jaime took a big deep breath. "Gal's doing a runner."

Brienne snapped her head around, her eyes big and wide and suddenly filled with sadness. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous," he insisted, his heart hammering. "Don't you think I know what doing a runner at a wedding looks like?"

There was an awkward silence following that statement. Even since Jaime and Brienne had got back together all those years ago, nobody ever really mentioned _before;_the first wedding and those horrible six years when they had been apart. Jaime appreciated that gesture, but at the same time it made mentioning issues like this weirdly difficult.

"I'm going after him," said Jaime, throwing his cards down and getting to his feet.

Brienne caught his wrist. "Don't. You are being paranoid."

"And what if I'm not?" he replied. "Bethany is _pregnant _like... like... you were."

Her face went a little pale at that before she gave him a quick nod. "Okay. But be _tactful."_

Jaime gave her a worried smile. "I always am, wench."

The conversation with Brienne and the others had put Jaime a few paces behind Gal, but he eventually spotted him over by the exit to the car park. His son was pretty hard to miss. At nineteen years old, he had finally developed into the body his parents had given him. He was tall, but in the solid way that Brienne was, rather than Jaime's litheness. Gal was half his father and half his mother, with a shock of Lannister gold hair and the perfectly formed nose, but had Brienne's freckles and her blue eyes.

_He's the best of both of us, _thought Jaime. _Or at least... I had hoped he was. I didn't think he would inherit this bit of me... the worst bit of me._

"Gal!" Jaime called, jogging to catch up. "Hey! Gal! Wait!"

At the sound of Jaime's voice, Gal stopped, turned around and gave him an uneasy smile. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice tense, just as Jaime drew level.

Jaime remembered his promise to be _tactful, _but how could he when his own son was about the make the same stupid mistake he had so many years earlier. Instead of tact, therefore, Jaime only succeeded in sounding angry. "Don't do it. You'll regret it forever."

Gal furrowed his brow in the way his mother was wont to. Jaime had always thought his eldest looked the most like Brienne out of their three children (Rohanne and Duncan were basically a Cersei and Jaime Volume Two), but in that moment Jaime had never seen so much of himself in his eldest son. Eventually, Gal found the words. "I thought you would be one of the few people who would support me in this."

"Support you in this?" replied Jaime, his tone halfway between gobsmacked and furious. "How could I ever support you in this? You're sneaking out in the middle of the night while your fiancée is back in her yurt asleep and, in case you haven't noticed, Gal, your toothpaste is well and truly _out of the tube _by this point, if you know what I mean. She's seven months pregnant, for fuck sake! What you are doing is a terrible, _terrible _thing!"

Gal's mouth dropped open. "Dad, I..."

"No, be quiet!" snapped Jaime, not wanting to hear Gal make the justifications that Jaime himself had hid behind for so long. "You are going to listen to me. I can't believe you would think _I _would ever support you in this. Leaving your mother at the altar was the worst thing I ever did, and I still feel guilty and awful about it all these years later, even though she forgave me." Gal went to speak again, but Jaime raised a hand to shut him up. "Let me finish! Leaving her in that way was cruel and horrible and she deserved so much better than that, and so does Bethany!"

Hoping that the journey into his own past was enough to persuade his son, Jaime waited for the inevitable justifications and excuses. They did not come immediately, because Gal's mouth was still hanging open, and he stared at Jaime confusedly for a few more moments before saying, "... you left Mum at the altar? When? I was at your bloody wedding! I don't remember that!"

Now it was Jaime's turn to be confused. "You weren't there."

"Yes I was," insisted Gal. "I was one of the ushers."

With that, Jaime was finally able to put the pieces together. "Oh, no, you've got the wrong end of the stick. That was the _second _wedding."

"The second wedding?" said Gal repeated incredulously. "When was the _first _wedding?"

Jaime waved his hand dismissively. "Before you were born... well... I suppose you had been conceived, but that's not quite the same thing..."

Now Gal just looked horrified. "You left mum at the altar _pregnant?"_

Jaime was suddenly struck with the thought that he really did not understand his son at all. "I don't understand why you are so shocked. This is all public knowledge and was a _big fucking deal _back in the day. I must have told you this story before?"

"No you bloody well haven't!" groused Gal, "I'm going to talk to Mum."

And with that, he walked back in the direction of the very warm resort bar.

"Gal, wait!" shouted Jaime, jogging behind him. "Your mother told me I had to be _tactful..."_

By the time they got back into the bar, Brienne was demurely sipping on a gin and tonic and discussing vol-au-vents with Sansa. Consequently, she was not prepared for the thunderstorm that was Gal who came marching over to the little poker party, all righteous Tarth fury and Lannister arrogance.

"Mum, why did no one tell me that _dad left you at the altar?"_

"I thought it was public knowledge," interjected Renly.

Tyrion nodded in agreement. "It was all a _big fucking deal _back in the day."

"Surely Brienne must have told you this story before?" Sansa chimed in.

Gal shook his head at the mini round of déjà vu, before saying, "no one told me. Mum, why is this a secret?"

Brienne took another sip of her gin and tonic before answering. "It's not a secret, darling. And... technically... he left me two days before the wedding, not at the altar."

"That's not the point," spluttered Gal. "What the hell were his reasons? He told me you were pregnant when he did it!"

"Your dad didn't _know _I was pregnant with you," said Brienne.

"How the fuck not?" asked Gal, shaking his head as if his mother had gone mad. "I've noticed Bethany is pregnant! How could he not notice you were?"

"Well," Brienne began tentatively, trying to find the right words. "My periods have always been all over the place, so it even took _me _a little while to notice. And then I wanted to work out how far gone I was given that it was just about possible you were conceived on the camping holiday to the Lake District..."

"You think it was the camping holiday?" chimed in Jaime, genuinely curious. They had always been certain the twins were conceived in the _Sweet Tooth _toilets the night Brienne won the _South London Cake Baker of the Year _award, so it was nice that he finally knew the circumstances for Gal.

Brienne nodded. "Yes. Either then or in the cupboard under the stairs during my dad's birthday party."

"Ah yes," said Jaime wistfully, while everyone else looked faintly repelled.

"I don't want to know when I was conceived, thanks!" said Gal loudly. "I just want to know why you forgave dad for _leaving you at the altar."_

Brienne smiled before pointing at Jaime. "Oh come on, look at his little face. Who wouldn't forgive him?"

"_You!" _interjected Tyrion, Renly, and Sansa at the same time.

Brienne looked around bemusedly. "What do you mean? I forgave him. We're married!"

"Yeah, you forgave me _eventually_," smirked Jaime. "But it took six years, a marathon on one leg, and an absolute cunt of an ex-fiancé before you saw the light."

Brienne wrinkled her nose. "Please don't use that word."

"What? Have you got a better word for Hyle?" scoffed Jaime.

"He really was a cunt," interjected Gal absentmindedly, "he wouldn't let me drive his boat."

"_Exactly,_" said Jaime emphatically, as if that proved the point. "And he always used to relish telling me how you loved sucking him off."

Brienne blushed a furious red. "He _did not."_

"He _did,_" insisted Jaime. "And at your engagement party, he told me about all the anal you two were up to."

Brienne's mouth twisted in fury. "What a lying cunt."

"Thank you!" said Jaime.

Gal had zoned out for a moment to avoid the conversation about his parents’ sex lives but came back into the room immediately after. "Look, I think we're totally getting off the main point here. Dad left you at the altar and you _forgave him. _Why did everyone let you do that so happily?"

"Well, it wasn't immediate," said Renly. "I mean... I took a _long _time to look at your dad kindly again, especially considering the background of the whole _fixing me up _thing."

"I'm sorry about that," said Jaime sincerely.

"I know," smiled Renly. "Water under the bridge."

That only made Gal look even more confused. "What _fixing me up _thing?"

"Oh you must have heard that story," said Tyrion, gleefully clapping his hands, "that's a great story. It's the story of how your parents met."

Gal narrowed his eyes at Jaime in the way that Brienne sometimes did. "You told me you met at court..."

"Yes," conceded Jaime. "We did. I was the barrister prosecuting Renly and your Mum was a witness for the defence."

Brienne smiled at her husband as if they had all been jolly good times. Gal just looked even more lost. "But, how exactly had he fixed you up then, Uncle Renly?"

"Oh," said Renly, waving a hand, "Jaime falsified the evidence against me on behalf of his criminal gangster of a father. Back in the day, your dad was a pretty shady dude."

"I was," agreed Jaime, knowing that was a pretty accurate description. "And your mum was an absolutely appalling character witness, because she was so obviously crazy mad in love with Renly that I tore her apart in five seconds flat."

"You did not," said Brienne threateningly.

"I did too," smirked Jaime.

"You did not win that day," Brienne pointed out, sipping her drink.

"I _so _did," laughed Jaime.

She shook her head. "No you didn't. You lost the case."

"Yeah," blushed Jaime, "but I met you. And you agreed to go out with me... eventually."

Brienne reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it affectionately. "We both won."

"We did."

The warm moment of affection seemed too much for Gal. "I'm sorry," he said incredulously, "so what you are trying to tell me is that my mum used to be in love with her gay best friend, but then fell for you, dad, this bad boy barrister who proceeded to leave her at the altar and then she forgave him six years later after a marathon and an absolute cunt of an ex-fiancé?"

Brienne shrugged, took a sip of her drink, and then nodded, "something like that."

Gal was still reeling from that declaration when Jaime took him by the shoulders and shook him. "And that's why you can't make the same mistake as I did. I had six years of self-hatred and trying desperately to win your mother back before she forgave me. You'll regret it forever. Even if you don't love Bethany, don't do it this way. She deserves for you to tell her to her face. And don't you want to be a father to her child? I'm telling you right now, there is nothing worse in this world than going to a dingy coffee shop north of the river and being told by the woman of your dreams that she doesn't want you anywhere near her until the baby is born and then, and only then, would she let you be his father."

Brienne let out a little gasp. "Jaime... I honestly didn't think you remembered that conversation..."

Jaime turned to look at her. "It broke my fucking heart in two. I remember every second of that meeting, every word..."

Even as her eyes began to glisten with tears, Brienne gazed at Gal. "Listen to your dad. I know he can be a right idiot sometimes but in this he is totally right. Leaving Bethany like this will only lead to pain and regret. Talk to her, talk to yourself. Work out what you both need. Don't leave it this way, for her and for you. I know how horrible this is... I've been on the receiving end of it."

Brienne's statement took a moment to settle in as Gal's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. The eyes of every member of the poker party were therefore on him when he eventually proclaimed, "I'm not leaving Bethany at the altar. I love her!"

Jaime dropped his hand from Gal's shoulder. "You're not? What the hell are you doing in the bar at one in the morning?"

Gal went a bit red before saying, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Playing strip poker," Sansa interrupted, before Brienne whacked her.

Staring into his son's eyes, Jaime said, "what are you doing then?"

An expression of incredible guilt washed over Gal's face. "There's a _McDonalds _down the road. I just wanted one more Quarter Pounder before I committed myself to a life of veganism with Bethany."

There was a moment of silence as the horrible truth of Gal's internal torment was revealed, but then it was broken as Jaime burst out laughing.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you, son!"

"It's nothing to be proud of!" yelped Gal. "Eating beef is bad for the environment..."

"Oh, go have your burger you flaming hypocrite," smirked Jaime, "then you can return to vegan-veggie-weirdness tomorrow when you force Quorn sausages on us all at the reception."

Gal gave Jaime a little smile. "I knew you would support me, dad."

"Always, except if you try to leave your fiancée at the altar," grinned Jaime, patting Gal on the shoulder, before his son gave the poker party a nod of farewell before turning and leaving the bar.

When Jaime sat back down next to Brienne, she said, "I told you that you were being a paranoid freak. Gal's always been much more honourable than you."

"Well, he is your son," purred Jaime, slinging an arm round her shoulder. "So... back to strip poker I guess?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this! If you did, please consider leaving a comment or kudos!


	12. Naming Conventions ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jaime and Brienne's first grandchild is born, there is an intense discussion over what to name him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes... I still should be writing other things, but here is another Run, Fat Knight, Run one-shot! I hope you enjoy :)

"I think Gal should call him Percy," said Duncan from the back seat of the car, looking around with a sort of wide-eyed innocence that only an eleven-year-old could possess.

"Why?" replied Rohanne, staring at her twin brother as if he was a supreme idiot. "He'll get bullied. It's a crap name. This baby is my nephew and _I'd _bully him if he was called Percy."

"Ro, don't say _crap," _said Brienne, putting the car into a lower gear in order to climb up the hill towards the hospital. "It's not very polite."

"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap," replied Rohanne stubbornly. "I have my freedom of speech."

"Not in this car you don't," insisted Brienne. "Do you want to get out and walk?"

"No," sulked Rohanne.

"Then don't say _crap._"

Jaime turned around from his position in the front passenger seat to wink at his daughter, but Brienne wasn't having any of that either. "And don't you encourage her, Jaime, or we'll have a rebellion on our hands in no time."

Rohanne rolled her eyes. "_Revolution_, Mum, get it correct."

"What's the difference?" asked Duncan.

"With a revolution," smiled Rohanne mischievously, "I win."

Jaime only managed to suppress his chuckle when Brienne hit him with a _if you dare laugh with her, I will make you wish you were never born _look, so he decided to return to the question of what Gal and Bethany would name their son in an attempt to calm the tension.

"My money is on Leaf," said Jaime.

"Leaf?" squawked Brienne, "why would they call their son Leaf?"

"They've always been into nature and stuff, haven't they?" Jaime shrugged. "It's going to be Leaf or David Attenborough."

"David Attenborough Lannister-Tarth is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Rohanne, rolling her eyes once more, "but I do think you are right, Dad. It is going to be some hippie-dippie shit."

"If you can't say _crap _in this car you are definitely not saying _hippie-dippie shit_," declared Brienne, turning round to give her daughter one of her terrifying stares. It made Rohanne wilt somewhat.

"I still like Percy," mumbled Duncan.

"So do I. Percy Lannister-Tarth, welcome to the family," laughed Jaime.

* * *

When the four of them finally arrived at Bethany's hospital ward, they could barely get through the door considering the huge bunch of flowers that Brienne had insisted on buying for her. However, with a bit of manoeuvring, they managed to get inside, and for the first time, Jaime got to see the blond haired cherub that was his and Brienne's first grandchild.

As Brienne and the twins crossed the room to speak to Bethany, who was holding the baby in her arms, Jaime went to talk to Gal, who was smiling dazedly at the weird new reality that was his life. "Congratulations," said Jaime proudly, "now the real fun begins."

"Thanks," said Gal, shooting a look at Bethany. When he saw that she was distracted by merrily showing the baby to Brienne and the twins, Gal stepped closer to Jaime and spoke in a whisper. "I'm so happy but... I think neither of us are really sure what to do at this point. Bethany was always in foster homes as a kid, so she's worried that she won't be a good mum and this... this... is all so new to me. I'm worried I'll screw it all up."

Jaime put his hand on Gal's shoulder and gave him an affectionate squeeze. "You are here, aren't you? That's better than I did in days after you were born. There's no hard and fast rule to this; you just have to work out how to keep a little human alive, and you have Bethany to help you with that."

Gal bit his lip in the anxious way he had picked up from Brienne, "but what if it all goes wrong? What if...?"

"Calm down," smiled Jaime. "You know me and your Mum are here if you need anything - _anything - _even if you just want us to take the baby off your hands for a few short hours because you need some _alone time _with your wife."

Gal went bright red at that. Although he had spent his life watching nature documentaries filled with animals of all shapes and sizes going at it, apparently hearing his dad referring obliquely to his sex life was too much. "Thanks Dad, I'll bear that in mind."

"You are welcome," laughed Jaime, enjoying the way his eldest was cringing.

Just at that moment, Bethany handed the baby to Brienne, and Jaime was transported back to the time he had first seen her holding Gal in her arms. Then, in spite of the fact that Gal was immediately loved endlessly by both his parents, those first few weeks had been utterly torturous for Jaime, as he was not allowed to be there in the way he wanted to be. It made him so happy that Gal was not repeating his mistakes.

"Jaime," called Brienne, "come and see our grandson."

Crossing the room, he went to stand behind Brienne so he could wrap his arms around her waist, rest his chin on her shoulder, and look down at their grandson. "Isn't he adorable?" he breathed, pressing a kiss into his wife's shoulder.

"Such a cutie," she cooed, "I think he's got Bethany's colouring, but Gal's eyes."

"Your eyes," murmured Jaime, as she reddened. Holding her against him, Jaime basked in a stolen moment of affection with his wife and their grandson as Duncan piped up, his curiosity overtaking him.

"Gal, what are you going to call him? Dad thinks you are going to call him Leaf."

"Or some other hippie-dippie shit," Rohanne muttered, as Brienne gave her a stern look.

Bethany laughed at that, before reaching across to take Gal's hand. "No hippie-dippie shit, we promise."

Taking that as an acknowledgment that they had already decided, Brienne gave them both a small smile before asking, "you have ideas, then?"

Gal and Bethany exchanged a glance before they both looked back at the former's parents. "Well," said Bethany gently, "we decided that we wanted to name him after a man who would be a good role model, who we both respect; the type of man that we hope our son will become."

"David Attenborough it is then," sniggered Jaime, his breath tickling Brienne's ear which, in turn, made her chuckle.

"No," came Gal's voice, interrupting the laughter. "We are not going to call him David Attenborough. We are going to call him Jaime."

Jaime snapped his head up at that declaration, looking from Gal to Bethany and back again. Although they were both wearing soft expressions and smiling, Jaime felt a knot of terror in his stomach that was old and threatening, even all these years later. As cold as the snow at the Winterfell Hotel, it made him retreat from Brienne's warmth and his grandson.

"You can't," he insisted firmly.

Gal looked confused. "Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because he's _bad luck_," Brienne interrupted, smiling as she looked at Jaime and then their son. "That's what he's about to say. He said it when I wanted to use _Jaime _as a middle name for Duncan too. It's a load of rubbish of course, but he'll try to say it anyway."

As everyone stared at him, Jaime felt himself going red. "Although I am really... _honoured _that you would consider naming him after me, I... I... _am _bad luck and I wouldn't..."

"Dad," said Gal gently, while fixing him with a firm look. "Bethany and I have talked long and hard about this, and there is no other name we could think of that would fit. You... you are the best dad I could have ever wished for, so we would be honoured if you would allow us to name our son after you."

Jaime's words caught in his throat as he tried to object once more. Why were Brienne, Gal, and his twins so insistent on seeing him as a good man when he had done so many things wrong? He turned to look at Brienne, hoping that she would help him to explain, but instead she just fixed him with a warm smile and then kissed their grandson on the forehead. "He would be honoured," she said gently, "wouldn't you, Jaime?"

Brienne then gazed at him, and it was the type of expression that said so many things without words.

_I love you._

_Gal loves you._

_We all love you._

_Just accept that, finally. Just accept this._

Bathing in her warmth, Jaime turned back to Gal and Bethany, a lump blooming in his throat. Nodding, he croaked, "I would be honoured."

Gal broke out into an enthusiastic smile, before crossing the room and pulling Jaime into an affectionate hug. "Thanks, Dad. Thanks so much... Bethany and I are the ones who are _so _honoured."

Jaime returned the hug, resting his chin on Gal's shoulder; he had inherited Brienne's height after all. With his arms around his son, Jaime remembered a time so many years ago when Gal had runaway and Jaime had found him up a tree. Perhaps that was the first time he had truly felt like Gal's father, had first had a glimmer of hope that he could be the father his son deserved. It was almost overwhelming that Gal thought he had succeeded.

When they broke apart, there were tears in both Brienne and Bethany's eyes. "Oh Jaime, Gal," said Brienne affectionately, rocking Little Jaime - the newest addition to the tribe - in her arms. "My boys."

"Hey!" chirped Duncan indignantly. "What about me?"

Brienne grinned at her young son. "Of course you are one of my boys too!"

Duncan beamed happily at the recognition, before turning to Bethany. "Well, if his first name is Jaime, can his middle name be Percy? I like the name Percy."

Rohanne looked as if she was totally over being permanently imprisoned with a bunch of idiots. "That's even worse than all that crap hippie-dippie shit!"

"RO!" came the collective admonishment. "STOP SWEARING!"

Rohanne just gave a self-satisfied grin. "What? Someone's got to break up all the mushy stuff!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked that, please consider leaving comments and kudos! It makes me very happy!!!


	13. First Kiss ("Big Cop II")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime Lannister had never intended his first kiss to be quite like this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, here is another "A Big Cop in a Small Town/Big Cop II" oneshot. I'll explain in the endnotes... If you enjoy it, please leave a comment or kudos :)

It had been Cersei that had dared him to do it, because _of course _it had been Cersei that dared him to do it. Addam Marbrand would have just made him lean out of the bedroom window and shout "boobs" as loud as he could. Bronn would have gone a step further and dared him to take all his clothes off and run around the grounds of Casterly Rock totally naked. Only Cersei could have come up with something as mean as making her twin brother have his first kiss during a game of Truth or Dare.

"Seven minutes," she had declared to the entire room of giggling spectators as Jaime awaited his fate, "in _that _cupboard. Seven minutes of kissing, _with tongues, _with someone entirely of _my _choosing."

Jaime knew Cersei was not aiming to be cruel to him in doing this - she was his sister after all - but she was just so much more casual about kissing than him. For her, it was a thing that was rarely done for fun, but for status or power or a myriad of other mind game reasons that Jaime would never understand. It was a gesture, in the same way that giving someone a birthday card was a gesture. Jaime thought it should mean something more.

"Oh, I had my first with Stannis Baratheon when I was nine!" she had told him a month ago, when he had approached her tentatively to ask how old she had been when she had her first kiss. It wasn't that he was especially interested in his sister's love life, Jaime just wanted to know how weird his no-kiss situation was.

He had not believed her. "No you didn't."

"Yes I did," she declared, holding her nose in the air at her perceived superiority, "and I did it because I wanted it in that moment, not because I thought we were going to be together forever. We are now _seventeen, _for Christ's sake, and you are still a kiss-less virgin. Frankly, it's embarrassing."

Jaime did not think it was embarrassing. He had a reputation for being a pretty boy who girls threw themselves at, which always protected him from derision, but even so he had just not met the right person yet. Jaime needed emotional intimacy before kissing or anything more, otherwise he just felt strangely dirty. So, as he wasn't really interested in making out with random girls he didn't really know, he had been content to wait.

At least, until Cersei's dare ruined all that.

"Go on Jaime!" Bronn had laughed as Jaime had got to his feet and walked over to the cupboard they were pointing at. "You've been needing a good snog for ages!"

_I don't need you mocking me about it, though, _thought Jaime bitterly.

There was one small mercy to this horrible dare, he supposed; the girl Cersei had sent into the cupboard after him. Melara Hetherspoon had been Cersei's best friend forever, so Jaime had known her for years. In some ways, it was a strangely comforting choice. Melara was physically the opposite to his sister, with long brown hair, big brown eyes, and a face full of freckles. She was also the quiet type; shier, more reserved, prone to watching and observing before making her intentions known. The only quality Jaime had ever thought he _needed _in a girlfriend was gentleness, and he hoped that perhaps Melara possessed that feature.

However, there were several reasons why Jaime had never considered Melara as an option to be his first kiss. She was one of those girls who had such a desperate desire to belong that she seemed permanently committed to obscuring her own idiosyncrasies. She would die her hair unflattering shades of bottle blonde to be like Cersei, she always made sure her handbag was the same make as Cersei's, and wore so much foundation she obscured her freckles. It was a shame, because Jaime thought Melara's freckles were her best feature.

"Hello Jaime," said Melara quietly as she slipped inside the cupboard, closing the door behind her.

Jaime tried to smile, hoping it would hide his nervousness. "Hello Melara."

Melara smiled at him, biting her lip. At first it was tender, but the longer they stood there in awkward silence it quickly turned ravenous. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this for."

That surprised him. "Oh... err... really?"

"Really," she purred, wrapping her arms round his waist then planting her hands on his arse. "Ooooh... I like it."

"Cool," was all Jaime could really think of saying.

_Fuck, why am I so awkward?_

"You know you are really sexy," purred Melara. "I think about doing _this _all the time." As she said _this _she pulled him tight against her, making sure he could feel everything. "Have you thought about it?"

Whenever Jaime thought about kissing someone, it was not like this. He thought they would be closer in height for one thing (Melara was very short), and he thought that his fantasy girl might just take some time to hold him in her arms for a while. There was none of that with Melara.

"I want you to kiss me, Jaime. Right now."

"Now?"

"Well... that's why we are in this cupboard," she said, smiling ferociously at him. "And the others want us to put on a bit of a show."

His heart was in his throat at that statement. Jaime did not know how to _put on a show, _did not _want _to, but here was Melara pushing herself against him like this was all entertainment. Part of him wanted to run away, but he knew he would never live it down, so instead, Jaime put his hands on her shoulders before leaning down and giving her the most gentle, delicate kiss he could imagine.

The kind he wanted as his first.

After a few seconds of hoping he would feel something, Melara pushed him away. "Stop being so soft. Push me up against the wall. Use your tongue. Pull my hair. _Dominate _me, for God's sake."

"Dominate you?" he asked uneasily.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course. That's what all girls like. Haven't you done this before?"

"Of course," he said sharply, trying to hide his inexperience. "_Loads _of times."

"Well come on then," ordered Melara. "Dominate me."

_Alright then, _was Jaime's last lucid thought before he pushed her back against the inside of the cupboard and began to kiss her furiously. There was no skill or finesse to it; he just stuck his tongue down her throat and hoped. Melara started making contented little noises at that, only moving away to give him orders.

"Press me against the wall with your body."

"Pull my hair."

"Bite me."

When Cersei opened the door after the seven minutes were up, Jaime still had Melara pressed against the side of the wardrobe, her dark hair bunched tightly in his hands.

"Time's up."

Jaime had never felt such relief in his whole life.

As he left the cupboard, Jaime got laughing congratulations from Bronn and Addam, while Cersei just gave him a thumbs up. Even though he did not really like the joking, he went to sit down next to his best friends, as it was better than talking to Melara, who spent the rest of the evening trying to catch his eye. Maybe she expected something of him, something he was unwilling to give.

Later that night when everyone had gone home, Jaime curled up in bed, trying not to think about his first kiss. It was pretty impossible, as just as she had gone to leave Casterly Rock, Melara had slipped a little bit of paper into his hand.

_We should do that again, but with less clothes. Call me. M x_

Jaime knew he wouldn't, because he felt so weird about the whole thing.

On the one hand, he had not liked how rough Melara had wanted him to be with her, but at the same time had appreciated the way she was so forthright about what she expected from him. For the first time, it made Jaime think about what he really wanted; a girl who wasn't afraid of taking the lead, but at the same time was tender with him. Jaime wondered whether she existed, someone who was both gentle and strong and wouldn't want him to push her against walls and pull her hair. Perhaps she would even _like _telling him what to do.

_I don't think she exists, _thought Jaime sadly. _Melara said that's what all girls want; guys to dominate them._

And with that, he fell asleep, promising himself he would not kiss someone else until he really meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have finally, FINALLY worked out the sequel to "A Big Cop in a Small Town", and this little oneshot kinda sets the scene for it. I also have plans to write the fifth instalment of "The Ice Cream Anthology". However, I do not know which one to write first once I have finished "Lannister and Tarth", so I thought I would throw the question out to my readers!
> 
> What next? A "Big Cop" Sequel (which may contain another murder mystery), or Ice Cream Anthology Part 5 (which may be based on a Simon Pegg film that involves roommates, a pub, and zombies)? What do you think?
> 
> As ever, I would love to hear from you :D


	14. In Another World ("Lannister and Tarth")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending to "Lannister and Tarth".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is brief, but I hope you like it.

In another world, there was a house that stood by the sea. It had two stories and a spacious kitchen, with a large enough fire to heat the whole building. A man and a woman lived there. They had met on the other side of the world in the strangest of circumstances, but none of that mattered, not when they were together. Here.

The man and the woman had a garden where they grew all sorts of vegetables - carrots, broccoli, green beans, sweet potatoes - but the thing they were most proud of was the orange tree that grew so tall it reached their bedroom window. She liked oranges. So did he.

The orange tree was not the only thing to take root in that house. First, there was a little boy named after his father, then a little girl in her mother's image. They did not stop there. Two years later there was a second boy named for his brother, and then another girl for her almost sister. Finally, there was one more girl. They named her Alys, just because they liked the name.

Autumn turned to winter, and winter to spring, and they stayed in that little house together. Happy. Peaceful. Free.

She went first at the age of eighty. He followed two weeks later, unable to bear the loss.

In that little house in another world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I love feedback, so please consider leaving a comment or kudos.


	15. The Multi-Dimensional Pink Mini Cooper ("Multi-Universe")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet from all of my "Ice Cream Anthology" universes, through the prism of one pink Mini Cooper...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you like this! It is just a bit of fluff and silliness.
> 
> And yes... the "Run, Fat Knight, Run" snippet is a retelling of the time Bronn smashed up Hyle's car from Bronn's perspective :D

* * *

**Margaery's Car**

"I'm never volunteering to be designated driver again!" Margaery huffed as they drove back from a work night out in Lannisport, "if _this _is what I have to put up with!"

Jaime made a humming sound against Brienne's lips that suggested he was trying to make an objection but, as no one spoke tongue, the Hound interrupted. "At least you are in the front, Margaery. I'm stuck back here with them!"

It was then Brienne's turn to mumble something against Jaime's lips which was as equally unintelligible as what he had said, at which point Robb Stark took over the narrative. "I think she's trying to say you could have always invited Sansa if you wanted to make out with someone on the back seat."

The Hound rolled his eyes. "Sansa and I wouldn't be nearly as embarrassing as _those two."_

Jaime and Brienne stopped kissing in an instant and fixed the Hound with an identical indignant look. "We're not embarrassing!" they said in unison.

"YES YOU ARE!" replied everyone else.

* * *

**Tormund's Car**

Tormund's latest girlfriend was a bear tamer who worked at London Zoo. She was into animals like he was and had promised to take him on a trip to Canada, where they could see them together in the wild. For years, Tormund had thought love was chasing someone - namely Brienne Tarth - until she eventually caved, but with Maege it was so much easier than that. She liked his bad jokes, his beard, and his over the top affections in a way Brienne never had.

Maege made him happy. It was enough, and much better than pining for Brienne.

One night, Tormund was bombing down the road in his pink Mini Cooper in order to see his beloved, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Brienne was standing next to a shiny black people carrier, a look of utmost affection in her eyes. It only took Tormund two seconds to work out what she was looking at. Jaime Lannister, the man who had ultimately stolen her away, was lifting a very tired looking girl out of the back of the car. Cupping her golden blond head with his hand, he pulled the child close to his body before walking back to Brienne. She was smiling and, in her bubble of affection, leant across to give Jaime a kiss on the cheek, blushing. In response, he radiated all happiness and wonder in the world.

Even though the image shot past quickly, Tormund could not help but feel some tension leave his body.

_At least he makes her happy, _he thought.

* * *

**Bronn's Car**

In the months after Jaime and Brienne got back together, Bronn Blackwater could not help but notice that her horrible ex Hyle had started a near permanent stakeout of her shop, _Sweet Tooth. _He was sure that Jaime and Brienne themselves hadn't noticed; they were still too wrapped up in rekindled love and looking after their little family. Therefore, Bronn felt like it was his duty to head him off, especially after the whole ticket debacle that had almost put back the happy couple's reunion by some time.

Consequently, when Bronn next saw Hyle sitting outside the shop in his BMW, Bronn had no qualms in slamming his pink Mini Cooper - or Bessie, as he called her - into the front of Hyle's car.

As expected, the jealous psychopath reacted in a second. Rolling his window down, he screeched, "what do you think you are doing, you bastard?"

Some of Hyle's facade started to disintegrate when he noticed that Mr Road Rage was Bronn, Jaime's best friend. Bronn just smiled. "What are you doing here? Stalking your lady love? Because I can promise you, she's getting it elsewhere now."

At that comment, Hyle looked as if he was angry enough to spit nails. "Like I want that ugly bitch back. I care about my car, and the fact you've just fucked it up."

Bronn took at the back of Bessie and the front of Hyle's BMW; the latter had clearly come of worst. It made Bronn laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you. This was just an accident. But if you call Brienne an _ugly bitch _one more time, I'll run you over with my Mini Cooper and then I'll tell Jaime, and he'll probably hire a steamroller."

From Hyle's slightly scared expression, Bronn could tell that Hyle took the threat seriously, so when Jaime's nemesis reversed his car and fled from the scene, it only made Bronn laugh harder.

"See you later, Hyle!" he chortled, hoping Jaime and Brienne would never have to put up with that bastard ever again.

* * *

**Lady Catelyn's Carriage**

The trip across Edinburgh to the Tyrell's house in Lady Catelyn's pink carriage - which had unfortunately had its colour picked by Sansa when she was a girl - was painful for Brienne for many reasons. Mrs Roelle kept prattling on and on about Miss Margaery Tyrell's most excellent cross stitch, clearly trying to damn Brienne's poor attempts in the process, while Lady Catelyn would interject with comments on the latest hangings. Both conversation topics made Brienne think of getting out of the carriage and running away to join the circus. Trying to ignore them both, Brienne just looked out of the window, thinking of the latest boxing holds Jaime had shown her in their recent sessions at _The Sellsword. _It was a dangerous topic to dwell on, because it also made her think of the strength of his arms and chest, the warmth of his body, and how it felt to have him press her against the back wall of _The Sellsword, _kissing her senselessly.

She was only drawn out of her reverie when the dream was brought closer, as beyond the window of the carriage Brienne noticed a pair of familiar green eyes. Mr Lannister was standing with a girl selling peaches from a basket. Even though she was voluptuous with cute dimples, Jaime only had eyes for Miss Brienne Tarth, who was watching him from her carriage with a heated expression.

As Mrs Roelle and Lady Catelyn were too busy talking about highly uninteresting topics, they did not notice the boxer from the wrong side of town smirk at their charge and tip his hat in acknowledgement, nor her blush in response.

Brienne smiled.

_I'll see you on Saturday, my love, _she thought.

* * *

**Brienne's Car**

_Jaime: _I'm durnk. Come sav meee

That was all it had taken for pyjama-wearing Brienne Tarth to give up crying over Phoebe and Cole during her late night _Charmed _marathon and drive over to the other side of town to rescue Jaime Lannister from a nightclub. That was all it would ever take, because of the thought of Jaime in trouble made Brienne want to gather him up in her arms, kiss him profusely, take him home to bed and ask him to marry her. Not that she ever did any of that, mind. Instead, she just sighed and agreed to be his personal Uber service.

As usual, she regretted he made her such a pushover once she found him. Jaime was waiting for her out by the nightclub exit, but he was not alone. Entwined with his obnoxiously attractive girlfriend, Cersei, he did not notice Brienne at first because he was too busy mapping out the inside of his girlfriend's mouth with his tongue. Consequently, Brienne had to get out of the car and cough loudly to catch his attention.

His eyes were oh so green and bright when he spotted her. "Brienne! You're here!"

"Yep," she smiled tightly as she opened the car door. "Your knight in shining armour."

Without saying a word to Brienne, Cersei shoved past her, clambering into the back of the car and making herself comfortable.

_Rude bitch, _thought Brienne bitterly.

Meanwhile, Jaime pulled Brienne into close embrace of thanks, allowing him to feel the run of his body; warm, comforting, and strong. "You're the best friend I could ever ask for!" he slurred, before planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

_Yeah, _Brienne thought as they broke apart, still feeling the ghost of his touch. _But I want so much more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this! As you may have noticed, there was also a tiny snippet from the next fic I will write after I finish "Big Cop II", so I hope you are intrigued about where I will take it.
> 
> As ever, I love comments and kudos :)


	16. The Snip ("Run, Fat Knight, Run")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne see a familiar face while waiting in the Urology Department at a local hospital, and experience karma...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm back in Run, Fat Knight, Run universe! I wrote this in five minutes after the idea just came to me, so I hope you enjoy!

"How many more times do I have to say it?" Brienne asked, fixing Jaime with a firm look. "No. More. Children. The twins were enough."

Jaime gave her a teasing smile. "But I thought this time I'd aim for triplets. I was reading on the internet that particular positions encourage..."

"Stop reading rubbish on the internet," she laughed. "And anyway, you have no say in this because you don't have to push three tiny humans out of your body."

"Alright wench," Jaime smiled, putting an arm around her shoulder. "No more children."

"And this is why _this _is necessary."

By _this, _she was talking about the vasectomy. For all his joking, it was actually Jaime who had suggested it, because Brienne had spent years having reactions to various different types of birth control she tried, and neither of them wanted to go back to condoms. The Snip was therefore the only solution to their problems. Even so, Jaime didn't like having to be kept waiting for their first consultation on the procedure. The waiting room at the Urology Department in the local hospital was fairly crowded and, consequently, the consultant was running twenty minutes late. Brienne tried to keep Jaime distracted with word games.

"Eye spy with my little eye, something beginning with... R."

"Receptionist," replied Jaime instantly, having noticed she was eyeing up the handsome blond man sitting at reception ever since they got in the room.

She looked grumpy at how quickly he had got it. "How did you get it that fast?"

"I know your tastes wench," he grinned as Brienne blushed beautifully. "Is it my turn now?"

"Yes," she said in mock weariness. "Go on then."

Jaime scanned the room for a few moments, trying to find something really difficult. However, when he spotted the person who had just edged into the room, he found what he was looking for. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with H."

"Hospital."

"Nope."

"Hair."

"Nope."

"Horse."

Jaime spluttered with laughter. "Why would there be a horse in the hospital?"

Brienne shrugged. "I don't know. I wouldn't put it past you to cheat."

Jaime just grinned at her affectionately. "Do you want a clue?"

"Okay."

"It's a person," said Jaime, drawing close to her so he could speak quietly. "And we both know him. And he's in this room."

At that clue, Brienne began frantically scanning all the other people sitting in the waiting room, trying to find the person in question. When she saw him, her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.

"Hyle."

"Correct!" grinned Jaime, saying it so loudly that Hyle Hunt looked round and spotted them too. To Jaime's surprise, Hyle suddenly looked horror stricken and turned away. That was unusual; he was normally a confrontational shit.

"What do you think he's here for?" whispered Brienne.

"No idea," laughed Jaime, "but whatever it is, he's ashamed of it."

The reason for Hyle's shame was discovered thirty seconds later when a red-headed nurse came bowling out of the doctor's room, a clipboard in her hand. "Hyle Hunt? The doctor will see you now about your request to double your prescription of _Viagra_."

As Hyle went a brilliant, embarrassed red, Jaime nearly fell off his chair with laughter.

"Ygritte!" called the blond receptionist, "you can't just announce what people are here for in the middle of the waiting room."

Ygritte just shrugged. "Sorry Aurane, I was just reading my notes."

Clearly hugely embarrassed, Hyle got to his feet and had to cross the waiting room in front of Jaime and Brienne. While the latter was politely biting her lip in order to hide her amusement, at heart, Jaime was a big child, so as Hyle walked past, he loudly proclaimed, "I once raised half a million pounds for _Erectile Dysfunction UK _during that marathon you tripped me up in, Hyle. If you want any funding or support, you could always call them."

At that comment, even Brienne couldn't keep her laughter back anymore, and spluttered into Jaime's shoulder. Hyle scowled furiously, trying to ignore them, and marched as quickly as he could to the doctor's room, disappearing behind the door with a speed that would have rivalled _Flash._

Once he was gone, Jaime and Brienne revelled in their full on belly-laughs.

"His face," chuckled Brienne. "Oh, poor Hyle!"

"Don't say poor Hyle," Jaime laughed, "he bloody well deserved it."

"But now we look like such terrible people!" she spluttered, as the rest of the waiting room watched them, silently judging.

"I don't care," declared Jaime ardently, "because you know what that was, don't you?"

"No?" replied Brienne, still giggling.

"That was karma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... that was the "Hyle has Erectile Dysfunction" chapter that people have been requesting. I hope you liked it!
> 
> And Next Time on "Many Flavours of Ice Cream", you can expect a Big Cop II Melara POV, so I hope you are looking forward to that!


	17. Vive La Resistance ("Big Cop II")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime takes a swipe at Melara back at the station...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I know I promised Melara POV, but that's coming next time because I thought of this little idea. I don't want to show you too much about what is going on back in Casterly while Brienne is in the slammer because it will come up in the main story, but... I thought a little one-shot of Jaime being mean to Melara couldn't hurt!

Jaime stared resolutely at his computer screen, trying to focus on the parking tickets he was processing. He was alone in the staffroom. Jon was downstairs on reception of course, but apart from him, it was just Jaime.

Jaime and _her._

Chief Inspector Melara Hetherspoon was sitting in Brienne's office, on Brienne's chair, and had Brienne's door open in such a way that she could directly gaze straight at him while he was sitting in front of his computer. He hated the way he felt so trapped, he hated _her_, and he hated the feel of her burning glare on him, lascivious and all consuming.

As he punched the keys in processing the parking tickets, his train of thoughts were only on one topic: _I want Brienne. I miss Brienne. I love Brienne._

Eventually, Jaime could not stand it any longer and turned to look at Melara. For a foolish second, he hoped that his eyes on her would make her flounder and look away. Instead, she gave him a broad smile and licked her lips.

_I don't know how I was so oblivious to this, _he thought furiously. _She looks at me like she wants to eat me._

He hated every second of it, but now she was Chief Inspector, there was little he could do if he valued his job. Who would believe that a guy like him was getting sexually harassed by tiny Melara Hetherspoon after all? He knew his options for combatting this were very limited, so he looked around for inspiration.

Firstly, he considered shutting the door to Brienne's office so Melara could not see him.

_Nah, _he thought. _Too obvious and she would re-open it instantly._

Secondly, he thought about giving her the middle finger.

_No, she would misconstrue that as some kind of flirting._

Finally, he had a brain wave. Looking around at the other computers, he saw that several of them had photographs stuck to them. The Hound's had a picture of Sansa in a beautiful blue dress. Ilyn's had a little painting of his wife. Pod had one of him and Pia at _The Inn at the Crossroads_. In contrast, Jaime's own computer was remarkably bare. He was used to seeing his wife at work every day, after all. Picking up his phone, he began scrolling through his photos. He knew which one was _the one _he was going to display to all his colleagues and Melara Hetherspoon. If Brienne knew what he was doing, she'd probably kill him, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Emailing it to himself, Jaime then set the photo to print in full technicolour. It was one that they had taken when Brienne had been feeling particularly naughty on New Year's Eve. They had decided to set up a timed camera above their bed (which Jaime thought was some sort of technological miracle) so they could take artful pictures of themselves doing it for their own enjoyment. Although there were much racier ones, Jaime thought this one was perfect. It showed him lying on his back, the duvet around his waist, with Brienne on her side beside him, her face buried in his neck. While it was impossible to see anything X-Rated, it was very suggestive. Her hand was reaching down under the covers towards his crotch, while his face was contorted and flushed with desire.

_Perfect, _he thought once it was printed. _Little Bitch Lannister, here I come._

After he stuck it onto a prominent position on his computer, Jaime carried on with his work, feeling he had some sort of resistance to Melara's persistent staring. The first time someone noticed it, however, it was not Melara, but the Hound and Margaery when they came back off patrol.

"Bloody hell, Lannister," said the Hound the second he saw it. "Are you really missing your wife that much that you are putting up Brienne themed porn around the station?"

"No," he said sullenly. "It's not _porn. _Brienne and I agreed it was erotically charged photography."

The Hound let out a grunt of laughter before saying, "okay, let me rephrase. Are you really missing your wife that much that you are putting up Brienne themed erotically charged photography around the station?"

"Yes, I suppose I am," said Jaime sadly. "But that's not the only reason."

"What's your other reason?" asked Margaery.

Jaime smiled at her. "I think this is a good way to show that I'm already taken, however much our new Chief Inspector stares at me."

Margaery just chuckled at that. "Vive La Resistance."

Melara herself saw it when she sauntered out of Brienne's office later that day and her eyes immediately grew as large as two saucers. "What is _that?"_

"It's a photo of me and my wife having sex," Jaime declared, not just to Melara but all the other officers who were packing up for the day.

Melara wrinkled her nose. "Well, you should take it down. It's really not appropriate, Jaime." She reached out to take it, but Jaime beat her to it. He didn't really want to know what she would do with some erotically charged photography featuring himself and Brienne.

"Alright, Chief," he said angrily. "I'll take it down. I'll find a more family friend photo of my wench to put up tomorrow."

Even as Melara's expression became a little sour, she tried to regain her composure, so stepped forward until she was totally invading his personal bubble. "You know, Jaime," she purred leaning forward, "you could just call me Melara."

Jaime just gave her a tight smile. "And you could call me Sergeant Lannister-Tarth," he growled. "I'll see you tomorrow... _at work."_

He stalked away without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! As ever, I love comments and kudos!


	18. He Moves Through the Fair ("Big Cop II")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insight into the mind of Melara Hetherspoon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. A warning with this one: IF YOU HAVEN'T READ CHAPTER TWENTY OF "BIG COP II", DON'T READ THIS!! It contains spoilers galore.
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> PS. There is mention of domestic violence in this one, just FYI.

If it wasn't for that unsightly bruise, Melara thought she might at least have the opportunity to spend one day not being Cersei's unfortunate looking friend. Her step-father had administered it the night before after he came home from the pub drunk and caught her listening to _B*witched _on his walkman. As her mum had been equally inebriated, when Melara had cried, she had just got another smack and told to shut the fuck up and suck it up like everyone else did.

Consequently, on the day of the fair, Melara found herself in front of the mirror in her bedroom trying to blot out the great big purple bruise that was now swelling across her left eye. It was difficult, but Melara was skillful enough at putting on a mask. All it took was some foundation, concealer, and some eyeshadow and soon it would be near enough how she normally looked. Not that _normal _was any good either. Her mum always told her that her freckles were ugly and that her hair was a mess, so Melara made sure to apply her make-up extra thick. She didn't want anyone seeing her looking like that. She didn't want _him _seeing her like that.

As her mum and step-dad were still sleeping off their hangovers, once Melara was ready she slipped out of the front door and walked towards Walder Frey's farm where the fair was being held. She was meeting Cersei and Jeyne outside the front gate at ten o'clock, just as they had planned. It didn't take long to spot the former; as usual she looked like a princess. Her gold hair was hanging lose around her shoulders and she was wearing a red sweater vest over an Oxford with a mini-skirt and over the knee socks.

_Why can't I look like that? _Melara thought.

The only consolation was that Jeyne Farman looked like her usual lumpy-frumpy self, but at least she gave Melara a gap-toothed smile when she approached. "Hey Mel! How are you doing?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Melara in response. "My name is not Mel, it's Melara. It's a mononym, like Cher or Madonna."

Jeyne went a little red. "Oh okay."

Cersei rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's go inside. They say that someone died on the _The Black Dread _rollercoaster once. I want to give it a whirl."

Even though she was not as much of an adrenaline junkie as Cersei, Melara followed her around quite amiably, always ready to help Cersei sort out her hair after a particularly wild ride. She told herself that she did it because they were _friends,_but the truth was that they were no such thing. Cersei Lannister didn't want friends, she wanted minions, while Melara herself had never felt she clicked with other girls. In fact, she never clicked with anyone at all.

Well, no one except Jaime Lannister.

After Cersei had been on _The Black Dread _(and found it a little disappointing), they went over to the dodgems. It was the only ride in the whole place that would allow Cersei to indulge in her more competitive tendencies, so she was looking forward to it. Melara just followed, as always, not particularly liking the idea of being thrown around in a little car all that entertaining. However, she immediately changed her mind when she saw that Jaime was waiting in the queue with Bronn and Addam, and then had to battle with herself to prevent her cheeks going the most violent red colour.

_God, he's blindingly beautiful, _Melara thought.

"Cersei!" called Bronn the second he saw them. "If you come join the queue with us, I could help you take that stick out of your arse."

"Oh yeah?" replied Cersei as she scooted under the railing to stand next to him. "And then I could hit you over the head with it."

Jaime let out a breath of laughter at his sister's comeback, which was so sweet sounding that it would have caused Melara to turn and look at him if she wasn't already gazing at him intently. He was wearing jeans, a red jacket over a white vest top, a back to front baseball cap, and had a backpack slung artlessly over one shoulder. It was so geeky and awkward looking that Melara did not think it quite fit the cool, suave, sophisticated Jaime. When she was his girlfriend, she'd get him dressing better. The mask you wore was the most important thing about you in life.

"Hey Jaime," she said casually, smiling at him. "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied, brushing a lock of his spun-gold hair out of his eyes. "A bit tired, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Why are you tired?" she asked, trying to resist kissing him on the cheek.

"Oh, I was just looking after my brother Tyrion while father and Cersei were out yesterday. He insisted on running all over Casterly Rock. It was an effort to catch up with him." Jaime smiled affectionately at the thought of his little brother, and Melara's insides turned to mush.

_How is he so kind? _she thought to herself.

She knew he tried to hide how kind he was - Lannisters of Casterly Rock were not meant to be _caring_\- but it was clear he just couldn't conceal it. Melara saw how he looked after his little brother while Cersei treated him like dirt, or how he never really used the same venom that Bronn and Addam did when teasing Jeyne. And she remembered that night six months earlier when Jaime had found her in the rain after her step-dad had kicked her out. He had put his jacket round her shoulders and then taken her for a milkshake, not asking her any probing questions. He just made jokes. Smiled. Made her laugh. In her whole life, Melara had never known anything like it.

And she craved it. She needed it. She wanted him. She had to have him, whatever he thought about the situation.

"That's kind of you," Melara smiled, a contrast to Bronn as he started taking the piss out of Cersei and she hit back with everything she had.

Jaime gave Melara an easy, beautiful smile. "Well, you know me," he said sarcastically, "I'm thoroughly lovely to everyone I meet."

"You are," she replied, trying to convey how much she _meant _it in her expression, only to find he had looked away to laugh at a joke Addam was making.

As the conversation continued, Melara couldn't find the words she wanted to say to him as they queued up for the dodgems.

_You are so lovely, Jaime._

_So kind._

_So handsome._

_Why won't you look at me?_

_Can you even see me?_

Once they got to the front of the queue, decisions had to be made.

"I'm not getting in a dodgem with _Bronn," _insisted Cersei, fixing him with a filthy look. "And I'm not getting in one with my brother either. He'll backseat drive."

"Looks like is me and you then, Cers," smiled Addam, while Cersei just looked resigned to her fate.

After that first pairing off, Melara's eyes jumped to Jeyne Farman, who was in the process of turning away from Bronn and towards Jaime. Knowing she had to get there first before that fat lump got her claws in her man, Melara reached out for Jaime, grabbing his shoulder. He looked entirely nonplussed.

"Shall we share Jaime?" she asked, trying not to sound keen. "I'd love to see you drive."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and her legs turned to jelly. "Are you sure you don't want to drive? I might go a little too fast."

_No, _thought Melara, _because then I won't have the chance to look at you._

As she slipped into the dodgem beside Jaime, Melara couldn't help but feel how warm, strong, and solid his body was as they were pushed together. She imagined what it would be like to have him to run to when the storm clouds gathered, how good it would be to have Jaime pull her close and stroke her hair and tell her he loved her. It would be unlike anything she had ever known before.

Sitting in the dodgems waiting for the ride to start, Jaime turned to her and smiled. "Hey, how... oh."

Noting his face was filled with concern, Melara's heart almost melted. "What's the matter?"

Narrowing his eyes, Jaime looked closely at her face. "Have you got a black eye?"

Melara went to deny it, but then he lifted his hand, almost as if he were about to touch her. "I... I... I..."

Before she or him could say another word, the dodgem kicked into life, forcing Jaime to turn away from her and grasp the steering wheel. Suddenly, they were both jolted forward, as the car containing Bronn and Jeyne slammed into their rear.

"Oi!" shouted Jaime, laughing. "What do you think you are you doing, you bastard?"

"Playing the game!" grinned Bronn, as Jeyne Farman looked as if she thought her death was imminent.

"Ha!" replied Jaime, expertly spinning the car around so he could slam it into Bronn and Jeyne's side. "But the difference between you and I, Bronn, is that you always play by the rules, whereas I am willing to cheat!"

Drawn into Jaime's laughter, Melara looped her arm around Jaime's as he drove them around the dodgems rink and spent most of the ride gazing up at his beautiful face, imagining what it would be like if at the end of the ride he turned around and kissed her.

_Mine, _she promised herself. _One day, you will be mine._

* * *

Jaime helped Melara out of the dodgem once the ride was over and then, once the six of them had gone to buy some mini-donuts, had offered her one of his. She had appreciated the gesture immensely, as Melara had only had enough to get into the fair itself, not for snacks. It wasn't as if she could ask her mum or stepdad for extra money. Tasting the sugary sweetness she would not have been able to experience without his help, Melara wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with him. Jaime was the only one who had spotted her bruise, the only one who had ever taken the time to look a little closer, to be kind. It was so strange and so wonderful; Melara wasn't used to kindness, yet, once she had been shown a scrap of it, she knew she wanted it more than anything. She wanted _him. _She would take it if she had to.

However, she discovered she was to be disappointed. After they had eaten their food, Bronn announced he wanted to go on _The Black Dread _again. "God no," exclaimed Cersei, "that was _boring. _Me and the girls are going to go on the Haunted House."

An image of herself cuddled up next to Jaime while ghosts, ghouls and demons jumped out at them came into Melara's mind. When she screamed, he put his arm around her and said there was nothing to be scared of. She liked his tenderness, the softness in his voice...

"That's rubbish," laughed Jaime, "I'm going with Bronn."

"Me too," chimed in Addam.

"Well, we'll see you guys later then," said Cersei, pulling Melara and Jeyne towards her. "I want to see ghosts!"

Melara went to protest. "But wouldn't it be nice if we went as a six?"

However, no one was listening to her and were instead happily splitting into two groups. Even as he pulled away from her, Melara could not stop looking at Jaime, whose own eyes were locked on Cersei. "I'll see you later, sis," he said. "Don't wet yourself if you see a ghost."

She gave him a mocking expression in return. "Don't worry, Jaime, I'm not _you_."

With another light laugh, Jaime made to leave. Melara tried to hold on for a few more seconds. "See you later, Jaime."

"Yeh," he said non-committedly, already having taken a few steps towards Bronn. Addam followed a second later and, before she could stop him, Jaime and his friends were trotting off in the direction of _The Black Dread._

_Jaime, come back..._

Melara was only stopped looking at the back of his golden head when Cersei spoke. "What are you looking at, Hetherspoon?" There was a knowing look in her green eyes that instantly made Melara feel uneasy.

"Nothing," she replied, trying to shake off Cersei's suspicion. "Come on, let's go to the Haunted House."

Trying (and failing) to push thoughts of her future husband out of her mind, Melara trotted along with Jeyne and Cersei, ignoring both the former's twittering conversation and the latter's stealthy, knowing looks. They were halfway across the fair when Melara noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It was a ramshackle little tent with a sign that said _Mystic Maggy: It's Written in the Stars._

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at the tent while cutting across Jeyne's soliloquy on horror films.

"That tent?" replied Cersei. "Oh, it's probably one of those psychics. They can read your future and tell you anything you want to know; about love, who you will marry, whether you will win your _soulmate. _Maybe you should ask her some questions, Melara?"

Even though she knew Cersei was being teasing, Melara couldn't help but be tempted by the prospect. Seeing Jaime so close, watching him, sensing him, but not _having _him tormented her so acutely she wanted nothing more than to know if she had a chance.

"Maybe I will," said Melara, trying to sound casual. "Shall we all go? I would like to see what is in my future."

_Jaime, _she thought. _And if the fortune teller tells me I__ can never have him..._

_Well... I'll just have to take him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. As you could probably tell, it was Melara's POV of the day she had her fortune told by Mystic Maggy! Apparently, whereas making "Run, Fat Knight, Run" Hyle abominable was easy, I couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for Melara. I would love to hear what you thought about the inner workings of her mind, so please consider leaving a comment!


	19. Mistletoe and Wine ("Zombie Horror Hordes")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Pod's Christmas Party, Brienne struggles with her feelings for her housemate and best friend Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really wanted to write something Christmassy as it is now Advent but, as there is not a lot of scope for that in "Idiots in Love", I thought I would give you a sneak preview of the story I am going to put out there next; Zombie Horror Hordes, a Braime Shaun of the Dead AU. I hope you enjoy!

Brienne did not want to go to Pod's Christmas Party. She really, really, _really _did not want to go to Pod's Christmas Party.

It was not that she didn't like Pod; in fact, she loved Pod; he was like a little brother to her. On the weekends, he made jam for fun, and always gave her a jar free of charge. Yet, despite that particular sweetness, his jam-giving was not the cutest thing about him. In his spare time, he had taught himself how to yodel and had taken to singing at Sansa in German every time he visited in a misguided attempt to woo her. He was unmistakably adorable.

Even so, Brienne still did not want to go to Pod's Christmas Party.

"Well, you don't have a choice," said Sansa huffily as she put on her lip gloss. "All the cosplayers will be there, and everyone will be asking me where you are if you don't come, and I can't tell them the _truth_."

Brienne furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you think the truth is?"

Once she had finished applying her lip gloss, Sansa blew herself a kiss in the mirror, before turning to look at Brienne knowingly. "That you are scared your ovaries will explode if you go to the party and Jaime is wearing a cute Christmas jumper, and you don't want Pod dealing with all the mess of your ruined internal organs."

Even as her cheeks burned with shame at Sansa's gross imagery, Brienne tried to bat back her friend's accusation. "Jaime wouldn't wear a cute Christmas jumper, he'd wear an ironically ugly one just to make a statement."

"And what statement would that be?"

Brienne folded her arms across her chest in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment, "that he's ridiculously gorgeous and can get away with wearing the ugliest of jumpers and _still _look like Jaime Lannister the Ancient Greek God of Sexiness."

That caused Sansa to burst into a splutter of laughter before fixing Brienne with a teasing look. "But won't you _enjoy _seeing Jaime in his Christmas jumper? And you never know, with the mistletoe, wine, and Cliff Richard songs, maybe... something might finally happen."

Brienne's scoff was such an automatic, familiar response that Sansa did not even respond to it. "Don't Sansa. Just don't. He is _Jaime _and I... I make ironically ugly jumpers look ugly without the irony, and that's why I don't want to go."

Sansa's eyes went wide, "what, because you don't want to wear the jumper?"

"Of course I don't!" squawked Brienne, looking down at the ugly reindeer jumper that Sansa had forced her into that lit up every time she moved. "It flashes, Sansa. _Flashes. _And I already laugh like a sealion being shot, I don't want to make it any worse by having my awful chuckles accompanied by Rudolph's red nose."

Sansa rolled her eyes as an expression of her long-standing exasperation. "Don't be ridiculous. You've got a lovely laugh. It makes people happy."

"Yeah, because other people get pleasure out of mocking it," said Brienne, hearing years of taunts and jeers reverberating around her skull in a rush. Sansa went to object to that assumption, but Brienne held a hand up. "Please, just _don't_. Now is not the time. We've got to discuss how you're getting to the Christmas party when I'm not free to drive you."

Suddenly, Sansa's smile turned calculating. "Oh, you _are _free to drive me."

"Why do you say that?" asked Brienne. "I'm not coming to the party, so why the hell would I interrupt my Christmas movie marathon to drive you to Pod's party?"

"Well..." said Sansa slowly, her grin growing bigger, "firstly, you swore a sacred vow to be my best friend, and best friends always drive their buddies’ to wherever they desire to go."

"No they don't _always_," said Brienne huffily, feeling somewhat taken advantage of seeing as she was the only one of the two of them who actually had a car, "and even if I pulled a sword out of a stone in your honour, I'm still not driving you because I am _definitely not coming_."

Sansa shrugged nonchalantly, "yes you are, because you know what I'll do if you don't come."

"What?" asked Brienne, feeling a little fearful considering Sansa's expression.

"If you are not coming to the party..." purred Sansa, "I might have to go up to Jaime and tell him that you named your vibrator after him."

Brienne's mouth opened in horror as she tried to object. "That is not true!" she thundered, even though she knew what Sansa had just said was one hundred percent was true. "And you _wouldn't."_

"I _would_!" giggled Sansa, "if it would make you come to the party with me!"

There really was no refusing Sansa bloody Stark. She had nefarious powers that she mostly used for good, but could sometimes be co-opted for evil. Like right now.

"Urgh," groaned Brienne, "but this jumper is just so hideous!"

"Please, Brienne," chirped Sansa, her stupid blue eyes wide and her lips pouting. "_Please _come. It won't be the same without you."

Brienne sighed. Why was she just so terrible at saying no?

* * *

Three hours later, Brienne found herself at Pod's Christmas Party really not having a good time, bro. Pod's Christmas mix consisted of Noddy Holder sing-shouting "IT'S CHRISTMAAAAAASSSSS" over and over again, obscure Cheeky Girls numbers, and haunting renditions of the _Coventry Carol _from Kings College Cambridge, complete with Herod murdering small children. Pod had also tried making alcohol free eggnog and, because Brienne was too nice to tell him the truth, she had described it as _sublime. _It meant she was stuck drinking it for the rest of the evening, trying not to vomit.

The worse thing of all though was that Jaime Lannister had turned up drunk after having gone pre-drinking with his brother, all semblance of a brain to mouth filter having been washed away by shots. As ever, he looked devilishly handsome and smelt so good Brienne wanted to lick him all over.

Or eat him, one of the two.

"Hello wench," he slurred the second he arrived, smacking a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "You look _detectable_."

"Do you mean delectable?" she asked gently, as he slung an arm around her shoulder and put his weight against her. Even though it felt a little like he was crushing her, Brienne had to try and stop herself shivering at how _good _it felt to have him so physically close. While his Christmas jumper was perfectly ironically ugly, Brienne quite liked it because she could feel the wired strength of his body underneath, and its hardness made her heart hammer against her ribs like mad.

"_Disinfectable_, yes," Jaime beamed, his dimples holding up his smile. She did not know what it was exactly about her lovely housemate that drove her wild, but there was no doubt she truly, truly loved him. It was impossible not to. He was _Jaime. _Her Jaime. Well, not _her _Jaime in the sense that they were an item, but _her _Jaime in the sense that he occupied her heart so fully that there was never any room to even look at anyone else, let alone _love_ another man.

It was just a shame Brienne would always have to do it in silence.

"WEEEEEENNNNNCCCCHHH!" shouted Drunk Tyrion as he came barrelling over, a gleeful grin on his face. As Tyrion was no doubt the ringleader of their debauched pre-drinking session, Brienne was surprised he was already so wasted. He usually liked to pretend to be a hardened drinker, and embarrass his lightweight brother.

"Hey," moaned Jaime, "you can't call Brienne wench. Only I call her wench, because she's _my _wench. Aren't you wench?"

"No," Brienne chuckled, fixing him with a firm look. Even though she loved him desperately, she would never, ever let him know. It was far, _far_ too embarrassing when he was so hopelessly out of her league. "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you."

"Alright Miss Eyre," Jaime teased, taking his arm from around her shoulder so quickly Brienne almost got whiplash. "I won't use your affectionate nickname again. It clearly _hurts _you. In future, I'll call you Ms Brienne Tarth every time we converse as is only proper and polite."

"Good," laughed Brienne, wanting nothing more than to reach out and hold him again. Yet, of course, she didn't.

At that moment, Jaime's verdant eyes dropped to her chest.

_Is Jaime checking me out? _she thought suddenly, hope swelling.

Then she remembered.

"I like your jumper by the way," he grinned. "Your tits light up every time you move. It's a good look."

Brienne couldn't help but go bright red at Jaime mentioning her tits. As they were as flat as an ironing board, she had assumed he had never noticed them, so the fact that she now knew he had at least looked at them _once _made her light up like a bonfire. "Well, some of us had to come in an appropriate jumper. I'm not even sure what yours is."

"It's a mistletoe," Tyrion interjected suddenly to which Jaime shot him a warning look.

"What was that for?" asked Brienne, turning to Jaime.

"What was what for?" he replied, his tone a little tense.

"That _look_ you just gave Tyrion."

"Oh, I... err...."

"It's because he's worn the mistletoe jumper because he's wanted this girl to kiss him for _aaaaggggeeeesss_, and this way he doesn't have to actually spend all evening casually hanging out under the mistletoe in the hope she will," smirked Tyrion, "he can just _pounce, _like the Lannister lion he is, using his mistletoe-jumper powers." As Tyrion was looking far too gleeful at that announcement, Brienne turned away from him and tried to meet Jaime's eye, but found he was determinedly not looking at her, but instead had found something very interesting on the floor.

"Jaime, I..."

"JAIME!" came a loud, pretty voice from behind them. Jumping, Jaime, Tyrion, and Brienne all span around as one. When Brienne saw who it was, however, her heart fell because, of course, it was Cersei Smith. Cersei Smith of the golden blonde hair and the emerald green eyes. Cersei Smith, the prime example of the most beautiful form of womanhood Brienne Tarth had ever seen. Cersei Smith, queen of bitchy side-eye. And Cersei Smith with the enormous crush on Jaime to which he had, rather surprisingly, not yet given into.

But it was only a matter of time.

As Cersei walked over towards Jaime, wearing the expression of a predator eyeing up a particularly tasty snack, Brienne picked up her non-alcoholic eggnog and made to move away. Even though she wanted Jaime and could never have him, she still did not begrudge him romantic relationships. He obviously fancied Cersei and perhaps they would make a good pair; Brienne just didn't want to see it personally.

To her surprise, however, Jaime stopped her going by grabbing her wrist and holding her fast to him. "Hey, wench, where are you going?"

"To get some more alcohol free eggnog," she replied, even though she knew it was a pathetic excuse. In truth, she was running away.

At that declaration, Jaime furrowed his brow at her and went to say something, but he was interrupted by Cersei coming up and scooping her arms around his waist, the smell of her perfume at once over-powering and irresistible. Not taking her eyes from Jaime's face, the blonde succubus' words were nevertheless spoke to Brienne. "Oh, Brielle, if you are going to the drinks table can you grab me a Smirnoff Ice?"

"Sure," Brienne mumbled, using the moment's distraction afforded by Cersei's question to pull her hand out of Jaime's grasp. Brienne did not want him to trap her at his side when she knew full well what would happen next.

Even so, Jaime would not let her go gracefully.

"Wench," interjected Jaime, trying to catch her eye and failing, "why don't you stay a bit? We can talk."

She gave him a sad smile. "Because I think it's time you used your mistletoe-jumper powers, don't you? I'll see you in a while."

Not wanting to hear his inevitable answer, Brienne did not wait for a reply and span away on her heel, leaving Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion to go in search of more non-alcoholic eggnog. Even though she had promised, Brienne did not ever return with Cersei's drink, because she was not that bitch's slave, but neither did she look for Jaime for the rest of the night either. In fact, she purposefully avoided him. Brienne knew who he was; he was a man - a glorious, wonderful man, yes - but, like all men, Jaime had a very specific taste in women. His happened to be Cersei Smith shaped, and the truth of it stung. Consequently, Brienne did not last very long at Pod's party, and went home much earlier than any of her friends, wanting to wrap herself up in her warmest pyjamas, locking out all thoughts of Jaime Lannister and his beautiful eyes.

_It's always going to be this way, _she thought, _because I am me and he is him. We can never be a pair. It's like Beauty and the Beast, only this time, we don't live in a fairy tale, but in the real world._

All the same, it still hurt later that night when she heard Jaime and Cersei enter the little flat that he, Brienne, and Sansa shared, whispering and laughing and kissing. Listening to the sound of his bedroom door slamming, Brienne wondered for a few moments what it would be like if Jaime had used his mistletoe-jumper powers on her, and took her back to his room and kissed her, held her, and fucked her like he was undoubtedly doing to Cersei right now. 

The walls were very thin, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I love comments and kudos with all my heart. If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving some.


	20. No One Can Know ("A Big Cop in a Small Hotel")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A taster of what is coming in Big Cop 3...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Just a tiny, tiny tease of what is coming in Big Cop 3, aka. A Big Cop in a Small Hotel. I hope you like it!

"Shhhhhh," she whispered to her darling, precious baby that she was clutching to her chest. "You've got to be quiet, sweetheart. _Please. _No one can know... no one can know..."

Even as the baby kept making miserable little whines, she did not slow her pace. If anyone saw her, if anyone knew, everything would be lost. Everything would be ruined...

_No one can know, _she told herself firmly, for what felt like the millionth time. _You have to do this, even though it breaks your heart. No one can know._

She was immensely thankful it was the middle of the night because, in the unlikely circumstance that someone noticed her running through the woods in the darkness, they would perhaps not spot her blood stained clothes, nor the terror in her eyes.

_No one can know. What if his father found out? I wouldn't be safe. _He _wouldn't be safe. Oh god, what have I done?_

Eventually - just at the point when her legs were burning, her lungs were on fire, and she did not feel she could take a step more - she found what she was looking for. The house was hidden from general view by the trees, and it seemed like the perfect place to bury the truth. She thought this place was a fairly safe bet because it was far away from all the darkness she had left behind, but distant enough from the town she called home that no one would guess the truth. There was even the possibility of warmth within as the light was on, probably because her brother was inside with the girl he was seeing.

_He will help, _she thought desperately. _She will help._

Arriving at the front door, she tried to stop the tears from falling as she knelt down and put the baby, her beloved son, down on the welcome mat. Wrapping him tightly in his blanket, she bent down and kissed him on the forehead, which caused him to make a little snuffling sound.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice on the cusp of a sob. "I am so sorry, and I hope we can meet again someday."

Not wanting to linger and make this any harder, she got to her feet and stepped away from him. Once she had pressed the doorbell firmly, she turned on her heel and ran back into the woods, away from her beloved child, even as her heart broke.

_No one can know, _she thought, the truth as painful as a knife.

_No one can know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos!


	21. Waterloo Station, Again Again ("Woman Up")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 of "Woman Up" from Jaime's perspective...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been a long time since I updated this collection, and an even longer time since I wrote anything "Woman Up" related! This started out as a tumblr prompt from lovelylittlewren that I decided to post here. It is Jaime's POV of Chapter 12 of Woman Up, "Waterloo Station, Again". I hope you enjoy!

After Brienne turned Cersei into the abominable snowman with a fire extinguisher, Jaime had been certain that he might never stop laughing. In fact, Brienne had been forced to prop him up as they walked, because his sides were almost splitting at the hilarity of it all.

"Her face, _her face!_" Jaime squawked, taking in huge gulps of air just to make sure he was still breathing. "Oh, I've never seen something so brilliant in all my life. Thank you so much, Brienne. I feel thoroughly avenged."

She gave him a smile that lit up the night. "Vengeance is my middle name... well, actually, it is Louise... but Vengeance also suits."

Feeling as if he were floating, Jaime wondered if he took Brienne’s hand, he would discover that they could dance on air. The whole night was just so beautiful, and the world a better place because she existed. He just could not stop laughing with the sheer joy of it all.

However, to Jaime's immense disappointment, he eventually found a reason to cease because soon it became apparent that Brienne had walked him back to Waterloo Station, where their date had started. Was she trying to put an ending to proceedings?

"Why have you brought me he?" he asked, perplexed. He could think of at least another fifty establishments they could move onto before the night was through.

To his surprise, given the fact they were at the train station, Brienne did not look as if she wanted to end their evening, but as warm and inviting as she had been the whole date. "So, you know I mentioned I had to write an anniversary party speech?" she said, her blue eyes glittering.

"Yeah?"

"Well," she said slowly, seeming to weigh up her courage. "While I was in the toilet, I got a call from a very panicked Sansa who reminded me that I was meant to be at her parents' anniversary party several hours ago. I apologised for getting _distracted, _but said I'd go and do the speech..."

_Oh god, _thought Jaime, confused by the fact she was still being so kind to him. _Is she trying to let me down gently? Even after everything, does she still just sees me as a stupid blond?_

Stunned, Jaime tried to find a shield to defend himself with. "That probably works out well then."

Brienne furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

Rummaging around in his pocket for his phone, Jaime decided honesty was the best policy. "Well, while you were in the toilet, I got a phone call too. It was from my brother Tyrion. He was totally apoplectic with me about standing Daenerys up, and says he needs us to go on this date to test _Six Billion People and You _out." As if obliging him, his phone then lit up. "Ah. He’s just text me again. Apparently, Daenerys is willing to meet me at some cocktail bar north of the river in half an hour. I do really owe my brother a favour, and it will really help out the author of the book…”

Feeling a little uneasy explaining Tyrion's plans for the rest of his evening to Brienne, Jaime's words tailed off. He did not want to go on a date with Daenerys Targaryen, whatever Tyrion said - not unless it was really Brienne Tarth _disguised _as Daenerys Targaryen - but he had nothing else to persuade Brienne with other than the prospect of the imminent end to their date... that he really, really did not want to end.

However, Brienne just let out a scoff. “Daenerys still wants to meet you, even after you stood her up? Is she some kind of desperate loser or something?”

“Well technically _you _stood her up," replied Jaime, wanting to get the facts right. He then tried to charm her once more. "I’m just a poor innocent kidnap victim. Tyrion’s told her as much.”

Often when Jaime smiled at women, he found they became very amenable to him; he supposed that was what being pretty did for a person. He therefore hoped it would be enough for Brienne, enough for her to give him one more chance at least. "So, what do you say? Is it boy meets girl, or boy doesn’t meet girl?”

_Boy has already met girl, _thought Jaime. _He doesn't need to meet another one... so please say yes to me, Brienne._

Unfortunately, instead of the positive answer he had been expecting, a cloud came across Brienne's features. “Why are you asking me?” she asked letting go of his arm.

Jaime laughed, trying to lighten the tone. “I thought it would be obvious. You tell me your opinion on the subject, which makes you sound like a grumpy judgemental bitch – your words not mine – and then I fight back, we bicker about it for a bit, and then we come to the correct conclusion.”

_And it is obvious, _Jaime thought. _We will bicker about this for a while, and then we will decide we are just meant to be together, and that I should just tell Daenerys to take her copy of _Six Billion People and You _and stick it up her arse._

That this scenario did not come to pass was therefore quite a surprise to Jaime. "I'm going to go," said Brienne suddenly, before turning in the direction of the tube and walking away from him. Quick as a whip, Jaime caught up with her, confused as to what was going on.

“Woah! Wait a second!” he cried, trying to hold her back. “All evening you’ve been full of opinions on what I should be doing with my life and now you’ve got nothing to say?”

Brienne looked at him, nostrils flared, almost as if she was angry. “What do you want from me, Jaime? Do you want my permission? Do you want me to hold you to some sort of standard? Because you are an adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to go on dates with!”

“That’s not what…”

Suddenly, Brienne skidded to a halt and turned his face him, her eyes bright. What came out of her mouth next confused him entirely. “I want you to meet Daenerys.”

_I don't, _Jaime thought.

“You do?” he asked slowly, trying to work out the lie of the land.

“Yeah, why not?” Brienne said breezily, as if this was all a no big deal. “She’s a pretty twenty-four year old triathlete your brother told you was perfect for you. What possible reason could there be for you not to walk off and meet her _right this second?_”

Jaime's stomach sank. They had been getting on so well all evening that he had started to think this was something real, but now Brienne seemed determined to end their date with angry words and orders to go on a date with Daenerys Targaryen.

"And this wouldn't bother you?" he asked, testing the waters.

"It wouldn't bother me one way or the other," said Brienne, each word feeling as if she were cutting a strip of flesh off him. “If you think there is a chance she’s right for you, then _go._”

Although Jaime did believe in chance and fate - in star-crossed lovers and destined romances - he thought, in meeting Brienne, he had had his luck for the year, but she seemed to disagree. Consequently, there was nothing to do but try and hide his disappointment and agree with her. 

"Okay, I'll go meet her then.”

Jaime thought it had perhaps worked, as Brienne fixed him with a tight smile. "Great... well. Have a good time."

"Okay," he said again, attempting to find that she had some deeper feelings for him hidden in her expression. However, Brienne did not give him the chance to scrutinise her properly, as she began rummaging around in her bag.

“As you are going to see Daenerys, could you please give her back her copy of _Six Billion People and You_?” she said, before pulling it from her bag and holding it out to him. “I’d ask you to shove it up her arse, but I don’t think that will make a particularly good first impression.”

Jaime wanted to laugh - she was always so bluntly honest - but instead he was stuck trying to hide his wounds from her, not wanting her to notice how upset he was.“Tyrion says she’s already bought another one. That’s how I’m going to recognise her.”

“Well, of course she has,” said Brienne, rolling her eyes, before stuffing _Six Billion People and You _back from whence it came.

_This is my last chance, _Jaime realised desperately, having lost her touch, her smile, and now the thread of conversation. Bursting into Last Chance Saloon, he settled on making a joke. “I haven’t really read it, to be honest. I’ve been bigging up how much I read all evening. I barely did the blurb.”

“Well, maybe we both should have," Brienne replied sharply. "It might have led to a better date.”

If Jaime had been hurting beforehand, he was inwardly bleeding now. It had not been a terrible date in his opinion, not at all, but if that was what she thought... “So… that’s it then,” he said, taking a deep breath. It was amazing how sudden the end had come, considering a few short moments ago he had thought he would never stop laughing.

"Yep," she said, averting his gaze. The lack of connection between them meant that a silence grew - heavy and cold - that Brienne moved quickly to counter. “I’m sorry for derailing your date, by the way. I don’t know if actually apologised for that…”

“I’m glad you did,” Jaime said, preparing to tell her that it was because he had had an amazing night with her and didn't want it to end. However, Brienne was giving him such a frosty look that he covered up his feelings with a poor joke. “Because otherwise I wouldn’t have a story about my crazy kidnapper to tell Daenerys.”

“Well, I’ll probably use it in the future myself too. What’s funnier than revealing oneself as a mad kidnapper at dinner parties? It can be another one of my crazy tales.”

He tried to smile, but it was difficult now they had reached the goodbye. “Well… it was nice to meet you, Brienne. Take care of yourself, and I hope you make a really great speech… although I wouldn’t sing them that song if I were you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jaime,” Brienne replied, once again avoiding eye contact. “And thanks… I won’t.”

Silence, again. Jaime knew he should turn around and leave, because Brienne had basically told him there was no future in this and that he should just go date some generic, twenty-four year old triathlete. Having been the one to set out this barrier between them, Brienne therefore grasped his hand and shook it firmly, as if they were old business associates who had just signed a major deal.

"Bye," she said emotionlessly, his hand still in hers.

Unable to leave things like this - shattered and broken - Jaime used the fact that they were still connected to pull her close and place a gentle kiss on her scar. It was the least he could do after all that she had given him, and it did not feel like enough.

His goodbye was even worse.

"Bye," Jaime echoed, using all his powers to pull away from her. Curiously, he found he could not bring himself to look at her anymore.

And with that, she was gone. Turning on her heel, Brienne dashed back off towards the entrance to the tube. Wanting to stop her, but not knowing how, Jaime shouted the first stupid thing that came to his head.

“I’ll Facebook you!”

Giving him one more brief moment of her evidently precious time, Brienne stopped and gazed at him one more time. "I'm not on Facebook. The Russians will get me."

“Idiot,” he said.

“Idiot,” she replied.

Jaime permitted himself one final look at Brienne Tarth, drinking in the sight of her. Although she was not conventionally attractive, she seemed to shine in a way that no one else he had ever met did. Perhaps it was because she was special, or even that they had shared the most painful parts of themselves with each other, in a way that Jaime had never experienced before. Yet, apparently, that wasn’t enough. Without another word, Brienne turned away from him for the last time, heading in the direction of her train. Part of him wanted to follow her, but then he remembered that she did not want him, and there would be no changing facts.

_It’s a waste of time_, he told himself. _Daenerys is waiting for me._

Knowing there was nothing else he could do, Jaime left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. As ever, I love to hear from you in the form of comments or kudos!


	22. Never Meet Your Idols ("A Good Knight Sleep")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne Tarth is a huge fan of the band "Kingslayer" and even more so of their lead singer, Jaime Lannister. But you know what they say: Never Meet Your Idols...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, thanks so much for reading this. This is a little teaser for the next (and final) story I am planning doing in this "Ice Cream Anthology". I might not be able to get the full fic out for a while, but I hope you enjoy!

The Rosby Festival was the biggest music festival in the Seven Kingdoms. As a bright-eyed eighteen year old, Brienne had snuck out of Tarth on a late night ferry in order to go, desperate to see her absolute favourite band who were headlining.

_Kingsguard _were _awesome, _after all.

Arthur Dayne's skills on the electric guitar were legendary. Barristan Selmy was the bassist to beat all bassists. Gerold Hightower caused a storm on the drums. Lewyn Martell lit up harmony with his keys, and Oswell Whent had the most expressive bass voice. Brienne loved each and every one of them for their talents but, in her opinion, none of them compared to Jaime Lannister. Although Jaime was the youngest member of _Kingsguard, _he was clearly the most famous. With his golden blond hair, green-eyes, and perfectly sculpted body, he had the world alight with equal parts lust and fascination. Magazines heralded him the most beautiful man who had ever lived. Pompous music critics called his the voice that defined a generation. Teenage girls lined the roads screaming wherever he went. Yet Brienne felt none of that did him justice, because Jaime had been the beacon she had sailed towards during her darkest days. When Ron Connington made her life a living hell at school, she would come home and listen to _The Sword of the Morning _album, particularly Jaime's crooning rendition of _The Dornishman's Wife. _All at once it was jaunty and light-hearted, but also a type of sad that was happy for clever people.

His voice had allowed her soul to fly free.

Given how much he meant to her, Brienne had plastered her walls with Jaime's posters, followed him on all social media platforms, set up a stan account for him that was purposefully designed to get into spats with people who dissed him on twitter, organised a fan-mail group, passionately declared his relationship with the singer Cersei was not creepy but _couple goals_ to anyone who would listen, vigorously promoted any charity he was interested in, and dreamed of leaving Tarth and seeing her idol for real.

Therefore, the Rosby Festival had been a dream come true. Although she had been up in the gods, Brienne had almost died as she was so close to her idol that she could see him on the big screen, his sweat dripping down the centre of his six pack as he sung about the maids of summer with flowers in their hair.

"I LOOOOOOOOVVVVVEEEEE YOOOOOOOUUUUUUU JAAAAAAAIIIIIMMMMEEEE!!!" Brienne screamed at the top of her lungs, sending a burning feeling through her chest. His voice and his body and his deep green eyes that contained the world were her only refuge in a cruel, terrible world, so she needed him to know how much she adored him. It was just a shame the rest of the stadium did too. "I LOOOOOOVVVEEEE YOOOOUUU SOOOOOO MUUUUUCH!"

After she had seen _Kingsguard _give the most spellbinding, heart-breaking, wonderful, transcendent set at the Rosby Festival, Brienne had tried to crash the backstage parties in the hope of meeting Jaime, but the security had been far too stringent. Consequently, Brienne headed back to Tarth with a mixture of feelings; happy that she had finally seen _Kingsguard _live, but disappointed that she had not had a moment with Jaime. She longed to tell him how he had saved her life, after all.

Eighteen year old Brienne had feared that would be her last chance, but nineteen year old Brienne knew quite different. During her year at King's Landing University, Brienne had fallen in with a fun group of girls who didn't care that she had had no friends at high school, and genuinely valued her company. Margaery, Sansa, Daenerys, and Asha were all different from each other and different from the type of girls Brienne ever thought could be _her _friends, but she loved them, nevertheless.

Brienne loved them even more when Margaery found the poem she had written about Jaime Lannister in a fit of existential angst, and had not laughed. In fact she seemed positively effusive about Brienne's style. Burying him under layers of metaphor and evocative language, Brienne thought _My Knight in Shining Armour _was obviously all about the man who had lifted her out of the depths of her depression and loneliness with nothing but his voice and his soulful gaze.

"Oh my gods, this is amazing, Brienne!" squawked Margaery, jumping down on the bed beside her as she read it again. "Who did you write this for?"

Brienne blushed, then shrugged to hide her embarrassment. "No one. The knight is an abstract concept, really, a palette onto which I project my ideals."

"You are so sentimental," laughed Asha joined them on the bed. Snatching the piece of paper from Margaery, she had a look. "But I gotta say... this is quite good. It could almost be a song."

"Ooooh, I'll get my bass! I'll pluck out a riff and we can work from there!" offered Sansa, dashing into the next room to get her guitar.

And then, quite suddenly, it _was _a song; Sansa plucked out an interesting skeleton on her bass, Asha used the bed's headboard to knock out a rough beat, and Brienne, Margaery, and Daenerys worked on the melody. The next time they sung it, they booked an official rehearsal room in KLU's music department so Asha could use real drums and Margaery could work out the chords on her electric guitar as loud as she wanted. To give the piece the ethereal harmony she had imagined, Brienne improvised on the piano while Daenerys sung the melody that they had devised over the top of everything in her beautiful, haunting voice.

After that, it all went so quickly that it made Brienne's head spin. Sansa's brother Robb ran the university radio station, so played _My Knight in Shining Armour _during his show. From there, listeners called in asking where they could download it, so the girls had to come up with a quick band name and use Asha's brother's computer wizardry to get it put somewhere on the internet where they could be heard. They used Daenerys' father's connections to get their name out there and before they knew it, two months later, _My Knight in Shining Armour _was the anthem of the summer, and _Fire and Flame _had stolen the number one spot in the charts off _Kingsguard. _All five members of the band had put their studies on hold, and their new manager Petyr Baelish was determined to make them the new hot ticket in town.

"I've got you a live gig," he said, peering over the table at the five members of _Fire and Flame _with a hungry look in his eye. "_Kingsguard _need a warm-up act for their concert in the Blackwater Stadium next month and you are on the bill."

Sansa and Margaery let out an excited squeal, while Asha and Daenerys high-fived, but Brienne could only stare at Petyr, completely dumbfounded. _Fire and Flame _were going to be singing with _Kingsguard_, and that meant...

_Oh gods I'm going to meet Jaime Lannister, _thought Brienne, her cheeks catching fire at the thought. _I, Brienne Tarth, am going to meet Jaime Lannister... at last._

As _Kingsguard _were embarking on a tour of the Free Cities the day after their concert in King's Landing, there was not a huge time for rehearsal, but they were at least allowed to block their number in the stadium in the hours before. Several members of _Kingsguard _were already there, including Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy, who were tuning their guitars while _Fire and Flame _ran through their set. Once they had finished practicing, the lighting guys had to set up their rigs, so asked all the performers to stay on stage while they sorted it out. To Brienne's surprise, Arthur came to speak to her, causing her to almost die on the spot.

"Hey, so I heard you were the lyricist for _My Knight in Shining Armour,_" Arthur grinned, his perfect teeth shining. He had never been her favourite member of _Kingsguard _\- that position was, of course, reserved for Jaime - but if Arthur was this beautiful up close, Brienne wasn't sure if she was going to be able to cope with her knight in shining armour.

She blushed to the roots of her hair. "Yes, it was me."

"Well, those lyrics are fucking incredible. Maybe we should get you to come and write for us?"

"Yeah," agreed Barristan, coming over to join them. "It's better than those crappy lyrics Jaime pumps out when he's high and expects us all to agree its high art."

As Arthur and Barristan started chuckling in agreement, Brienne felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She knew what people said on the internet; that Jaime wasn't a proper artist because his dad, Tywin, was old friends with _Kingsguard's _manager and has bought his son's way into the band. To refute these clueless people's arguments, Brienne had compiled a huge pile of counter-evidence that demonstrated Jaime's immense talent and the fact he got into _Kingsguard _on that alone, and she often used it to take people down on any social media platform that Jaime needed defending on. That Arthur and Barristan were making little jokes therefore made her feel uncomfortable.

She gave them an uneasy smile. "_Kingsguard's _lyrics are really good, and Jaime obviously speaks from the heart when writing them..."

"Ha," snorted Barristan, which earned him an agreeing nod from Arthur. "Jaime normally comes up with his lyrics thirty seconds before a fucking composition session, and two minutes after he's done a line of coke and banged his sister. Please don't give him any more credit than he deserves."

As Arthur and Barristan continued to laugh, Brienne tried to keep her composure, but found it hard. "Cersei isn't his sister. She's his _step-sister. _It's not like they grew up together..."

"Oh please don't tell me you are a Jaime fangirl," said Barristan good-humouredly. "They are the _worst_. They can't even see what is blatantly obvious. _Kingsguard _were a brilliant band when it was just six mates who wanted to make music, until Aerys decided to parachute Jaime in as the front man because he's pretty and Aerys owes Tywin a favour. That's literally all the kid's got going for him. The rest of the time he just does drugs and lectures us all about monogamy."

Brienne furrowed her brow. "Monogamy is a good thing, isn't it?"

"Not when you are banging your sister," shot back Arthur, which caused Barristan to snort in amusement. Brienne had to clamp down on her bottom lip with her teeth in order to prevent herself snapping _step-sister._

"He can't be all bad," said Brienne mildly, wanting to get the conversation onto less dangerous territory. "He has a really good voice and the crowds love him."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yeah, he's got a good voice and a pretty face, but it won't last long if he keeps shovelling shit up his nose and getting pissed as a newt every day with a Y in it. I mean the rest of us have been here for hours already, and where is he?"

"Probably unconscious in the back of Cersei's tour bus," said Barristan darkly.

"Making us all late, that's where," concluded Arthur in a gruff, sulky voice. "Sometimes, I can't wait for the day he flounces off in a sulk about the need for artistic integrity and decides to go solo. He'll do us all a fucking favour."

Barristan agreed to that proposition with a _mmm _so enthusiastic that Brienne had to excuse herself and find something else to do. Jaime had helped her through her darkest days with his silky voice and lyrics that spoke of love and loss, regret and pain. She refused to believe that he did not get on with his bandmates, or that he was a parachuted in drug addict only a member of _Kingsguard _due to his father's connections and his pretty face.

_He saved me, _she thought. _I know he is good._

Unfortunately, Jaime did nothing to change Arthur and Barristan's evident opinions about him, as he made the whole cast and crew wait for him for hours until appearing at the last possible moment, when he arrived on set just after six looking a bit spaced out. The rest of _Fire and Flame _had been led to their dressing room to prepare, but Brienne had lingered in the wings longing to see her hero. Just as she expected, he looked like an angel.

"Look, can we just get this fucking rehearsal done?" Jaime groused to Lewyn as the stage manager tried to go through the layout of the stage with him. "I know all these bloody songs; I bloody write them!"

As _Kingsguard's _set started up, Brienne found herself banished out of the wings by a particularly irate sound guy, but she did not mind as it meant she could take the long, slow walk back to her dressing room listening to Jaime sing.

_As good as ever, _she thought in wonder as he reached the high note in_ Dark Sister. In fact, better than ever, because I get to be close to him as he sings._

Eventually, the _Kingsguard _set came to an end and, conscious she might not get another chance, Brienne decided to make her move once she had given him a few moments to settle. As he was the star of the show, Jaime was given his own dressing room, twice the size of _Fire and Flame's _tiny area and full of designer furniture. Leaving Margaery and Sansa to a very boring conversation about fake eyelashes, Brienne snuck down the corridor to go and knock on his door.

_Be brave, _she told herself. _Be brave and you can finally get to meet your idol._

Thankfully, by the time Brienne reached his dressing room door, there was nobody around. It meant that she could take a few moments to prepare her words. She would tell him how much she loved his music, that it had saved her from the pits of depression, and only a truly wonderful soul could have written such powerful music...

The door of the dressing room swung open quite unexpectedly. Brienne sucked in a panicked gasp. Jaime Lannister was standing in front of her; all long blond rock god curls, forest green eyes, and a jaw so sharp she was scared it could cut her. To make matters worse, he had his shirt off and his jeans were slung low on his hips, making every inch of his kissable chest excitingly close.

"Who are you?" he barked; his green eyes narrowing in curiosity.

Brienne nearly swallowed her tongue in her attempt to answer. "I am Brienne Tarth, I am the keyboard player for..."

"Actually, I don't give a shit," he said harshly, waving his hand at her. "I asked Adam to bring me my fucking coffee and my pills and he still hasn't arrived, and Cers wants some room temperature mountain water, not this ice cold crap you've served. It's not good for her vocal cords. So can you just go and get on with it? Isn't it what Aerys fucking pays you for?"

Brienne blinked a few times, barely comprehending what was happening. Jaime Lannister was talking to her and he was using the same tone that Ron Connington used to when he was trying to make her feel small. It was so incongruous with the mental version of him that she had built up in her head, that she could not help but stare at him with her mouth wide open.

"Did you hear me?" he asked tauntingly. "Go get Cers her fucking water. She's the best singer in the world and her vocal cords need to be treated with care."

At yet another request for water, Brienne finally found the words to refute his assumptions. "I'm not employed by Aerys, or the stadium, or anyone. My name is Brienne and I am a member of the _Fire and Flame, _and I just wanted to say that your music was an insp--"

"Oh yeah," replied Jaime, realisation dawning on his face. "You are one of that fucking girl group Aerys is forcing us to sing with, aren't you?"

"We aren't a _girl group," _bristled Brienne. "We're..."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "You're a girl group. Let me guess, Baelish has assigned each of you some adjective that will serve as your personality while you are in the band to cover up the fact that none of you have any talent?"

At that burn, Brienne heard a girlish giggle coming from inside his dressing room room, but she barely noticed as her excitement, admiration, and joy at seeing him was rapidly turning into anger at being so thoroughly insulted.

"How dare you?" she began, lifting herself up to her full height in order to lean over him intimidatingly. He just raised his eyebrow as a type of challenge. "How dare you speak to me like that? I am your colleague for tonight, and you should treat me with respect..."

Jaime Lannister laughed, and it sounded so cruel that for a moment Brienne thought she was staring into Ron Connington's eyes, not those of the man who had saved her at the darkest point in her life. "Unless you are going to get me some water, I am not fucking interested," he growled, showing no sense of offering her even basic human decency.

"I..."

"No?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. "Then leave us alone!"

The door was slammed so violently that the wall almost shook, leaving Brienne standing quite alone in the corridor, all the colour draining from her face. Her jaw was nearly on the floor. Brienne had never met anyone so rude, obnoxious, or insulting as the man she had just had the misfortune to encounter, and he was the very same man who had taught her soul to fly.

If there was one thing for certain, it was that she was deleting all her Jaime Lannister fan accounts the second she got back to her hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your first impressions in the form of a comment or kudos!


End file.
